Page 21 of Cursed Alien

She stood and followed him, but as soon as they left the kitchen, she realized that the corridor ahead was pitch black. She could hear Malrik moving ahead of her, but she couldn’t see a thing.

“Wait,” she called. “I can’t see in the dark like you can.”

She didn’t hear him return but she felt the heat radiating from that big body and reached out blindly. She found his arm and wrapped her fingers around his forearm. The fur there was as soft as she’d speculated, despite the hard muscle beneath. Something electric passed between them at the contact, and she felt a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with fear.

His muscles flexed beneath her hand, and he pulled away. Before she could apologize, his arm came around her shoulders instead, drawing her against his side with exquisite gentleness.

“I’ll need you to lead me,” she said, her voice sounding breathless even to her own ears.

His only response was to pull her closer, guiding her through the darkness. Despite his gentleness, she was overwhelmingly aware of his size and strength as they walked. His body radiated heat, and that wild masculine scent filled her senses.

They passed through several corridors, and she tried to memorize the turns, but soon lost track. Finally, they entered the room she recognized as his sleeping chamber, with the nest of furs on the raised dais. But instead of stopping, he guided her toward a doorway on the far side that she hadn’t noticed before.

The room beyond was bathed in silvery light. Moonbeams streamed through tall windows, illuminating what could only be described as a bathing chamber fit for royalty. The centerpiece was an enormous sunken tub built into a window enclosure, allowing the bather to look out over the mountains while soaking. The stone surrounding it was veined with something that sparkled in the moonlight, and elaborate mosaics decorated the walls.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered, moving forward to examine the tub. It was carved from a single piece of stone, smooth and cool beneath her fingertips.

Feeling hopeful, she turned one of the ornate taps. For a moment nothing happened, then water began to flow—not the rusty trickle she’d expected, but a clear, steady stream of steaming hot water, filling the air with warmth and moisture.

“Hot springs,” he said, his voice surprisingly clear. “Piped through the walls.”

She blinked at him, startled by the relative eloquence of his words. His eyes seemed more focused, his posture less bestial. It was as though another personality had briefly surfaced through the feral exterior.

Before she could say anything, he turned abruptly and strode toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

He paused at the threshold but didn’t turn around. “Privacy,” he growled, the word sounding more strained than his previous speech.

With that, he disappeared into the darkened bedroom beyond, leaving her alone with the steaming bath and her confused thoughts.

She stood motionless for a moment, processing what had just happened. That brief glimpse of… something else behind Malrik’s eyes had unsettled her. There was more to him than the beast he appeared to be—she’d suspected as much from the beginning, but now she was certain.

The interaction had felt charged with something she couldn’t quite name—something that made her heart beat faster and her skin tingle where he’d touched her.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She was being ridiculous. He was a Vultor—a beast-form Vultor at that—and she was his… what? Prisoner? Guest? Repair technician?

Whatever she was, she should focus on the task at hand. And right now, that task was getting clean.

Shaking off her reverie, she investigated the rest of the bathing chamber. She found what appeared to be soap in a stone niche—ancient and dried out, but still recognizable. There were large cloths folded on shelves that might serve as towels, though they were dusty with disuse. She shook out a few and draped them over the ornate rack next to the tub.

Then she stripped off her muddy coveralls. Her skin prickled in the cool air as she tested the water with her toes. The perfect temperature. She slid into the tub with a sigh of pure pleasure. The hot water enveloped her, immediately easing the ache in her muscles. She ducked her head under, letting the water soak her hair and wash away the day’s grime.

When she surfaced, she noticed a shelf of stone bottles near the tub. She reached for one and uncorked it, sniffing cautiously. The scent of something like lavender filled her nose. Bath oil, perhaps? She poured a small amount into the water and was rewarded with fragrant bubbles.

As she soaked, her thoughts kept returning to Malrik. Who had he been, before whatever tragedy had transformed him to his current state? And why did she feel such an inexplicable pull toward him, despite his fearsome appearance? Was it the way he looked at her sometimes, with a hunger that had nothing to do with food…

She sank deeper into the water, feeling her face grow hot. She was being foolish. Whatever Malrik was—beast, Vultor, or something in between—she was here to fix his keep and then return to her father. Nothing more.

What had happened to him? Even though the Vultor were rumored to shift between forms, she’d never heard of one being stuck in beast form. And this place—he’d said it was built for him. That suggested he had once been someone of importance, perhaps even wealth or nobility.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she murmured, echoing a line from one of her father’s old storybooks.

Her father. Worry pierced through her momentary contentment. Had he made it to Agatha’s cottage safely? Would Agatha understand her note and reassure him? She’d programmed the wagon’s autopilot as best she could, but technology could be unpredictable, especially the older models.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about it now. She’d made her choice, struck her bargain. All she could do was fulfill her end of it and hope her father was safe.

She poured more of the fragrant oil into her hand and started to scrub away all traces of her journey. Why had Malrik departed so abruptly. Had he left to give her privacy, as he’d claimed? Or had he been uncomfortable with their proximity? Perhaps both.

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