“Broke about three hours ago. He’s been sleeping peacefully since then.”
“And you just… sat there?”
“Where else would I go?”
That simple question again. She was beginning to realize it wasn’t rhetorical.
Robbie’s cries were getting more insistent. She quickly adjusted her clothing to let him nurse. The relief was immediate—boththe physical easing of pressure and the emotional comfort of her son healthy enough to feed.
Becsul watched them with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Not lust, though there was something warm in his gaze. More like… wonder.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”
“You would have found a way. You’re stronger than you know.”
“Maybe.” She looked down at Robbie’s dark head, at his small hand pressed against her breast. “But I didn’t have to do it alone. That matters.”
The silence between them felt different now. Charged, somehow. She thought about the kiss she had given him the night before—the surprise of his mouth against hers, the way his whole body had responded. She had told herself it was just gratitude, just a moment of weakness.
She was starting to suspect it was more than that.
When Robbie finished nursing, she burped him gently and settled him back into the crib. He cooed up at her, his dark eyes bright and alert, all traces of fever gone. She stroked his cheek with one finger and felt something tight in her chest loosen.
Then she turned back to Becsul.
He had risen to his feet at some point, standing near the door as if preparing to leave. His expression was carefully neutral, but his tail was still reaching towards her, curling and uncurling in what she was beginning to recognize as agitation.
“You don’t have to go,” she said.
“I should. You need time with your son, and I have?—”
She crossed the space between them in three quick steps, reached up, and pulled his head down to hers.
The kiss was different this time. Not a quick thank-you, not a moment of impulse. She kissed him deliberately, thoroughly, putting all of her gratitude and confusion and unexpected wanting into the press of her lips against his.
He made that sound again—the growl-groan that vibrated through her whole body—and his arms closed around her. One hand splayed across her back, pulling her closer. The other cradled the back of her head, tilting her face to deepen the kiss.
His mouth was strange and wonderful. His lips were slightly cooler than hers, and firmer, with a texture like supple leather. But he kissed like he meant it, like she was the only thing in the universe worth focusing on.
His tail wrapped around her waist, her thigh, pulling her body flush against his. She could feel the hard planes of his chest through the fabric of his uniform and the way his whole body seemed to curve around her protectively.
This is insane,she thought.He’s an alien. He’s one of your captors. This is?—
He nipped gently at her lower lip, and all coherent thought fled.
She heard herself moan—a soft, needy sound that she didn’t recognize—and felt his response in the tightening of his arms, the increased pressure of his tail, the low rumble that built in his chest. One of his hands slid down her back, over the curve of her hip, pulling her even closer.
“Melissa,” he breathed against her mouth. “I want?—”
The door hissed open.
They sprang apart—or tried to. His tail was still wrapped around her, and it took him a moment to uncoil it, a moment in which they stood frozen like guilty teenagers caught by their parents.
The guard in the doorway was one of the small grey ones. He looked at them without expression and then focused on her.
“The female will come for an examination.”
“Now?” Becsul asked sharply. “She was up all night with a sick child. She needs rest.”
