“Come in,” she said softly, and Selik entered, somehow managing to make even that simple action look graceful despite his size. He’d changed out of his uniform into something that looked more comfortable—loose pants and a sleeveless tunic that revealed the powerful muscles of his arms and the intricate patterns on his skin.
Stop staring.
“I apologize for the late hour.” His voice was pitched low, respectful of the sleeping children. “I wanted to ensure you had everything you needed.”
“We’re fine. Thank you. They’re both sleeping.”
“You should sleep as well.”
“I know. I’m just…” She gestured helplessly. “Too keyed up, I guess.”
He studied her with those intense black eyes, and she resisted the urge to fidget. His gaze felt physical, like he could see straight through her carefully maintained composure to the terrified woman underneath.
“Would it help to talk?”
“I don’t want to keep you up.”
“I do not require much sleep.”
She glanced towards the sleeping chamber, then back at him. “All right. But only if you sit down. You’re making me feel short.”
He smiled at her and after the briefest hesitation, sat down at one end of the small couch. She hesitated as well, then settled at the other end, tucking her legs under her and pulling the oversized shirt—borrowed from his wardrobe—more tightly around herself. His gaze followed the movement.
“I see you have found my clothing.”
“I hope you don’t mind. We don’t have anything to wear other than what we were wearing when we were taken and?—”
“I do not mind.” The warmth in his eyes brought a corresponding heat to her cheeks. “I like the sight of you in my clothing.”
“Oh.” Her ability to speak deserted her for a moment, suddenly supremely conscious of how close they were in the quiet room.Focus, Corinne.She cleared her throat nervously. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about your planet.”
The request caught her off guard. “Earth? Why?”
“I am curious about where you come from. What your life was like before the Vedeckians took you.”
She bit her lip, unsure where to start. Her old life already felt like something that had happened to someone else, a story she’d read rather than lived.
“I was a professor at a small university, and I taught literature—not exactly practical knowledge for surviving an alien abduction.”
“You survived. That required more than academic knowledge.”
She looked away, uncomfortable with the praise. “I got lucky. If your ship hadn’t been there…”
“Luck is a factor, but so is will. You protected two children against overwhelming odds. That speaks to strength, not luck.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. When was the last time anyone had called her strong?
“Your daughter is strong as well,” he added.
“Stepdaughter,” she corrected automatically.
His expression didn’t change, but his tail shifted slightly. “Her father?”
“Dead. A year before we were taken.” The familiar ache settled in her chest, but it felt distant now, muted by everything else she’d endured. “David was a good man. A history professor at the same university. We got married three years ago when Anya wasten, more for companionship than passion. He’d been raising Anya on his own since she was four, when her mother left.”
“And Anya resented you.”
