“Here? On Earth?”
“Wherever you are.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath and my objections in one devastating blow. This isn’t some casual alien claiming instinct—this is a choice. His choice.
“But the medicalcargo—”
“Will be delivered. And then I will return, if you’ll have me.” His other hand comes up to frame my face completely, his pale eyes burning with intensity. “I know this is overwhelming. I know the timing is terrible. But I cannot let you believe, even for a moment, that walking away from you is something I would choose.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know you work past midnight fixing other people’s problems while ignoring your own loneliness. I know you read romance novels but tell yourself love like that doesn’t exist in real life. I know you help strangers in storms and curse at stubborn engines with vocabulary that would make a space pirate blush.” His thumb brushes across my lower lip, making me shiver. “I know you taste like coffee and courage, and that when you kiss me, the universe finally makes sense.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare up at this impossible alien who’s been rewriting all my carefully constructed walls. “Ja’war...”
But whatever I was going to say is cut off by the sound of vehicles outside. Multiple vehicles. Getting closer.
We both freeze, the intimate bubble around us shattering as reality crashes back in.
The growl of engines. The slam of doors. Voices carrying through the cold air.
“—surround the building—”
“—all exits covered—”
“—no one goes in or out—”
My blood turns to ice as Dale Wicks voice cuts through the others, closer than the rest.
“Fiona Davis!” he shouts, close enough that he must be right outside my front door. “We know you’re in there! We know you’re harboring that thing!”
Ja’war moves instantly, his body language shifting from tender lover to lethal predator in the space of a heartbeat. The transformation is startling, primal, and does things to my hindbrain that I definitely shouldn’t be having while armed locals surround my garage.
“How many?” he asks quietly, already cataloguing threats with enhanced senses.
I start to answer, but he’s already shaking his head.
“Twenty-three individuals. All armed. Three different weapon types, including something I do not recognize.”
“They cut the power,” I breathe as the lights die, emergency power flickering once before dying too. The garage plunges into darkness broken only by the soft glow of my Christmas tree and the glowing pulse of alien technology on my workbench.
“Classic hunting strategy,” Ja’war says, moving closer to the window while staying out of sight. “Force us outside, into the open where they can surround us.”
“Fiona!” Dale’s voice again, dripping with self-righteous fury. “I know you can hear me! That thing killed Hannah Barrett! It’s been hunting in these mountains for three years!”
“He’s lying,” I say automatically.
“Yes. But they believe him.” Ja’war’s voice carries a low growl that definitely isn’t human. “And they are afraid. Fear makes humans dangerous, unpredictable.”
“That thing is a killer!” Dale’s voice carries the righteous fury of a man who’s found his purpose. “Hannah Barrett died because of it! How many more have to die before you stop protecting it?”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare at the alien technology spread across my workbench, so close to working, so close to saving hundreds of lives. In the soft glow of Christmas lights, the components look almost magical, like some kind of holiday miracle waiting to happen.
But all I can think about is Ja’war’s confession. Wherever you are. The promise that this isn’t goodbye, that he’s not using me for a convenient repair and goodbye.
“Can we finish it?” I whisper. “Working by Christmas tree lights?”
Ja’war’s eyes meet mine across the darkened garage, and I see the same desperate hope there that I’m feeling.
