Page 41 of Rainse
That earned a laugh. “You know, you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
She tilted her head, studying me. “Honestly? Something with tentacles. Or more eyes. I never imagined aliens would look so… human. Or so…”
“So what?” I asked, stepping a little closer.
Her lips curved. “Attractive.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Attractive,” I repeated slowly. “That’s a compliment, yes?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
Her fingers lingered against the edge of my greenskin, tracing the delicate fronds where they fanned out from my ribs. The contact was feather-light, curious — but my body reacted as if she’d set fire to it. Had I warned her what touching my greenskin would do to me? I couldn't remember.
The greenskin flared in response, its surface shifting, alive beneath her touch. I drew in a sharp breath. My mind was empty. All blood suddenly seemed to rush to my cock.
She froze. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I managed, voice low and rough. “Just… surprised me.”
“It moved,” she whispered, watching it shimmer faintly in the dim light.
“It reacts to touch,” I said carefully. “Usually water currents, temperature shifts… or—” I swallowed, struggling for words that didn’t sound like begging, “—mates.”
Her eyes met mine. There was understanding there now, and something else — interest.
“Oh,” she said softly. “So it’s… sensitive.”
I groaned. “That’s one way to put it.”
I could feel the bond pulsing through me, stronger with every breath, calling to her, to this connection. Every instinct I had screamed to close the distance between us, to let her explore, to let this become what it was always meant to be.
But I forced myself to stay still. “Verity,” I said quietly. “You should stop.”
She didn’t.
Her touch grew surer, fingertips trailing slowly along the edge of my greenskin where it curved over my shoulder. The reaction was immediate — a rush of heat, every nerve alive, every thought wiped clean except her.
“You really want me to stop?” she asked, her voice barely above the sound of the rain.
I met her gaze, breathing unsteady. “No.”
That single word hung between us, heavy and certain.
Her hand slipped lower, resting against my chest where the green met blue. The bond surged, raw and undeniable, and whatever restraint I’d been clinging to shattered.
I caught her wrist gently, not to stop her, but to ground myself. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Her lips curved, a small, knowing smile. “I think I’m starting to.”
Thunder rolled outside, distant but echoing through the walls. The storm was right above us, but our own storm was only just beginning.
16
Verity
The rain hammered against the roof like a thousand impatient fingers. Inside the hut, the air had thickened with heat and something else—something that made every breath feel significant.
