Page 11 of Alien Desire
“If you’re cold, I can get you more blankets.” Although we both know I’m a far more effective source of heat.
He pats the ground. “Emma.” Despite his obvious weakness, his tone is stern and commanding. It must be my cadet training because automatically I’m gearing up to obey. But I shake my head. It doesn’t seem right now he’s awake — far too intimate.
His expression is that same serious, stern one and he continues to stare at me unblinking until my cheeks colour and I can’t help but relent. I crawl towards him and curl up against his side. He wraps his large arm around me and purrs. The noise makes his chest vibrate beneath me, and my reservations, my tension melts away.
How very strange to be lying in the embrace of an alien and feeling no fear.
How very strange to be lying in the embrace of an alien and enjoying the feel of his strong arms.
I have been alone for too long.
Chapter five - Emma
In the morning, I creep away before he wakes, and wash under the shower, dressing in clean clothes. I brush out my long red hair and find myself glancing at myself in the mirror. I’ve not worried about my appearance for months, maybe years. Our mission to the moon Excalibur at the far side of the universe, known for its abundance of the rare substance glimbar, had left little time for pruning and preening. It had been hard work, a test of endurance. I’d rarely bothered to look at myself and my hair had remained plaited down my back for the whole of the long, long journey.
Now as I look at my reflection, I see I have aged slightly. I am still very young for a human. Only twenty-four years old. But I have the first traces of where my face will line with wrinkles in the future.
How do I appear to the creature? To Tor? My eyes, and the colour and texture of my skin, must look plain and dowdy compared to the glittering colours of his kind. And I must seem small and insignificant compared to his broad, muscular frame.
His broad, muscular frame.
I think of what it felt like to lie against that frame, his flesh warming and brightening beneath me, and to my surprise I find myself shivering.
I flip the mirror over and step back. Then in annoyance at myself I twist my hair roughly into a knot on my head.
Tor is examining his wound when I return to him. It still weeps purple liquid, and carefully he peels back the bandages I’ve stuck across the wound and touches the gash on his side, wincing as he does.
I gather up the medical bag and bring it to him, unzipping the top and starting to pull out the content. He rests his hand over mine to stop me. His skin is cold again and the feel of it against mine makes me jolt.
“Emma,” he says and then he talks to me in his strange language.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” He looks around desperately, searching for something that will help us to understand each other. He points to the giant computer system.
I shake my head again. “It’s so old, it can barely puff a signal out to space. It can’t make us understand each other.”
He shakes his head too, copying my action.
“No,” I say, shaking my head at the same time.
He copies me. “No.”
I smile and once again he examines what he seems to find a strange expression.
He glances down to the floor, then back to me. He holds his hand out and arcs his finger through the sky, crashing it against his other palm. “Boom,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows and shake my head. I don’t understand.
For the first time I see something other than pain flutter across his face, something that appears vaguely like frustration.
He repeats the action.
“Boom,” he says loudly, then pointing to his palm, adds, “Tor.”
He does it a third time and then I deduce his meaning. “Your ship. Your ship!”
Seeing my comprehension, he jabs with urgency at his palm, at the site of impact.
“You want to go back to your ship?” I drag my palm down my face.
