Page 46 of Alien's Luck
Worshipped.
He wanted—needed—to devote himself to studying every aspect of her person, from the scar on her knee to the melanin spots on her nose, and her quick, devious mind.
Time was limited. Imagining a future together seemed impossible when each day was uncertain. Evading the Patrol might fail next time, leading to a hundred years in the Stone Sleep. Or longer. When he woke, Carla would be gone. Humans did not have the longevity enjoyed by his people. Or a blaster shot might catch him unawares. Life support could fail on his ship. As Carla pointed out, the opportunity for death was endless.
Life was delicate and time insufficient. He needed more.
She wanted him for entirely selfish reasons, and he could think of no greater compliment. No ulterior motive. No feelings of obligation. Only desire. This knowledge pleased him beyond measure.
Mumbling, she rolled over, taking the blankets with her, a thief even in her sleep. His thief.
She liked him.
It didn’t seem possible. He barely liked himself. Clearly, her judgment was impaired.
Ari had spent so long defining himself with who he did not want to be—basically his sire—that he never took the time to consider who he wanted to be. His time had been consumed with misbehavior and inglorious deeds. Anything to bring shame to the family. Now, he reached the stage where he needed to define himself not by what he was against but by what he stood for.
It was terrifying.
What if, after all of this, he was as vain and shallow as his sire? What if he was hollow? As empty as a death mask?
Being a hero and earning the adoration of the masses seemed like the solution. That was a delusion based on wishful thinking and empty promises.
Being the hero Carla needed? That was simple. She filled up his hollow places, pouring in her mirth, laughter, and joy. She gave him her darkness and her rage.
She gave him compassion.
He wanted it all. Every aspect of her. Above all, he wanted to convince her to stay once they rescued her oath sister but feared he would fail. While he would gladly accept whatever time she gave him, it would not be enough.
He needed more. Always more.
CARLA
Carla woke up with a stranger in the bed.
She jerked away, now fully awake and her heart racing. She kicked at the slumbering man. “Who are you?”
She had expected Ari, and this… wasn’t. It was Ari-adjacent. A Khargal of the same build and height, but the coloring was all wrong. This guy was a flat, dull gray. The crowns and hair were correct, but the shape of his nose was all wrong and his features were blunter, like the clay model had been squished.
Her feet kicked wildly as she scrambled backward. “Get out!”
His eyes opened, revealing bright, sparkling amethyst, and she knew it was him. He blocked her kicking feet with his hands, sitting upright. Color flooded his skin, the lustrous purple sheen returning. His features sharpened.
“Stop assaulting me,” he said, catching her ankle. “That’s better.”
With a grin, he dragged her across the mattress back to him.
Okay, fine, that was pretty hot, and normally, Carla would have been all aflutter at it, but she wasn’t in the mood.
She shook off his grip. “What the hell, Ari? You’re a shapeshifter?”
He snorted and his wings flexed behind him. “Hardly.”
Not good enough.
She scrambled out of the bed, taking a sheet with her and clutching it to her front.
With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed. “My people have certain talents. In my family, it is the ability to modify our appearance.”
