Page 22 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

She took a small sip of her drink, her expression turning thoughtful. “Not really. This has all happened so fast. That’s why I wasn’t bothered by the delay.”

“We can take as long as you like to get there,” he offered. He hadn’t considered the words prior to speaking, but he immediately agreed with the idea.

She didn’t pull away, and he was suddenly aware of the intimate atmosphere—the low light, the warmth of her skin beneath his tail—and the unexpected but undeniable attraction that sparked between them.

“May I see the scars?” she asked suddenly. “Do they bother you?”

He hesitated, then held out his arm. She leaned closer, examining the scars.

“These look like burns,” she said, her fingers gently tracing the marks on his skin. “And this one, it looks like the flesh was torn by something.”

She was so close now that her scent enveloped him, her breath warm against his chest as she moved from his arm to his torso.

“A battle with a Khasar,” he said, his voice low. “I was fortunate to survive.”

Her fingers continued exploring the marks, the sensation both pleasurable and oddly soothing.

“You were a warrior,” she said, her voice soft.

“I was a mercenary,” he corrected. “When I first left Ciresia I had nowhere to go and I could not face the thought of traveling alone on my family’s ship. Many systems were in chaos and work was easy to find.”

He ran his finger across the worst of his scars—a line from one side of his stomach to the other where he had almost been eviscerated.

“I did not expect to survive,” he added softly. “But I did, and eventually I grew tired of the fighting. I sold my family’s ship and bought this one.”

She was still so close that he could see her eyes dilate at his words. She placed a hand flat on his abdomen, just over the scar.

“And now?” she asked. “You live to trade?”

“It is safer. And profitable enough.” He hesitated, then added, “I am satisfied with the solitude. You and Rory are my first passengers.”

“Thank you for sharing it with us, even temporarily.”

“The ship feels… different with you aboard.” He struggled to articulate the sensation. “Less hollow.”

She gave him a delighted smile. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

The whiskey had created a pleasant warmth in his chest, loosening his customary reserve. “It is merely the truth.”

“Do you want to return to your solitary state?” she asked, and her hand lingered on his skin, sending an unexpected jolt of awareness through him.

“I am no longer certain,” he admitted.

Her head tilted, her eyes searching his face. “Because of us? Rory and me?”

“Because you challenge my assumptions.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “Is that a good thing?”

He was suddenly aware of how close she was, her face upturned and her hand still resting on his chest.

“Perhaps.”

He reached out and brushed his knuckles over her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

He traced the delicate line of her jaw, then cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. His tail circled herwaist, pulling her closer and she didn’t resist, leaning into him instead. Her head tilted further, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

“Thraxar,” she whispered, and the sound of his name on her lips ignited something within him, a hunger that he’d long suppressed.

---