He listens without interrupting, his breathing steady against my back. When I finish, water laps against stone in the silence.
Finally, he shifts, sending ripples through the pool. “You feel debt.”
I turn in his arms to face him, water sloshing. “Love.”
His head tilts, considering. “Same thing sometimes.”
I pull back, studying his alien features. “That's cynical.”
His tail tightens around me, keeping me close. “That's honest.” His claw traces my jaw. “Love creates obligation.” The touch moves to my throat. “Obligation creates debt.” His thumb rests over my pulse. “Debt demands payment.”
I catch his hand, holding it against my neck. “So I'm just currency being passed around?” My voice rises slightly. “Earth to Pyraxis to Earth again?”
He pulls me closer, until our foreheads touch. “No.” His other hand spans my lower back. “You're someone choosing which debt matters more.”
I turn to face him, water sloshing. I study him in the dim light. “And you?” My fingers trace the scars on his chest. “What debt do you carry?”
He catches my hand, presses it flat against his scales. “None anymore.” His hearts beat under my palm in that alternating rhythm. “Paid for you.” A beat. “Claimed you.” Another beat. “Protected you.” His claws trace down my spine. “Trained you to protect yourself.” He pulls me fully against him. “No debt remains.”
My legs wrap around his waist in the water. “Then why do you want me to stay?”
He's quiet for a long moment. The water laps around us. Steam swirls. Then, in his language, he says something the translator can't parse. When I look confused, he tries again in broken English, his accent thick.
“Want you because you are you.” His hands frame my face. “Not debt.” His thumbs trace my cheekbones. “Not obligation.” His forehead touches mine again. “Not biology.” His voice drops to barely audible. “You.”
It's the closest to a declaration of love his language allows.
Day 26
He watches me organize our supplies again. Creating patterns that make no survival sense. I'm stacking the water vessels in a spiral, purely for aesthetics.
He crouches beside me, mimicking my position. “Why arrange this way?”
I set another vessel in place, completing the pattern. “Because I want to.”
His head tilts sharply, confusion clear. “Want without purpose?”
I sit back on my heels, looking at my handiwork. “The wanting is the purpose.”
His tail sweeps the ground, leaving marks in the dust. “Human thinking.” He touches one vessel, slightly adjusting its position. “Circles with no end.”
I watch him improve my pattern with one small change. “Maybe.”
That night I trace the ridge patterns on his scales, learning that they spiral clockwise on his left side, counterclockwise on his right. Learn which direction feels good when stroked, which causes discomfort. His anatomy is endlessly fascinating. Two hearts on opposite sides, beating in offset rhythm. The secondary breathing vents that seal during sandstorms. The way his tail can sense temperature changes, warning of weather shifts.
My fingers find a soft spot behind his jaw. “Your body makes sense for this place.”
He captures my hand, presses it against his chest. “Yours adapts.” His other hand traces my transformed muscles. “Better than making sense.” His claw follows the line of a new vein visible under my skin. “Changing to fit.”
I lie down beside him, our bodies aligned. “The tonic changed me.”
His tail wraps around my thigh. “You changed you.” His hand rests over one of my three hearts. “Tonic just gave permission.”
Day 27
The words escape while he's knotted inside me, both of us locked in that space where thought becomes optional. His knot pulses with each heartbeat, keeping us joined.
“I love you.”
