“Melissa—”
“No, I understand.” She forced herself to take a breath and push down the complicated tangle of emotions rising in her chest. “It’s actually good news, isn’t it? If he thinks we’re compatible, he won’t try to pair me with someone else.”
The thought of another Cire male made her stomach clench with revulsion. When had that happened? When had this particular alien become the standard against which all others were measured?
“There won’t be anyone else,” he said, and there was a fierce certainty in his voice that made her look up sharply. “I won’t allow it.”
Something warm unfurled in her chest, dangerous and unwanted. She couldn’t afford to feel this way. She was a prisoner and he was her jailer. No matter how kind or how protective he was, whatever was happening between them was tangled up in circumstances that made it impossible to trust.
And yet…
She looked down at Robbie, still gripping her thumb, and thought about the way Becsul had held him during the fever. The gentleness in those huge hands. The way her son had calmedinstantly in his arms, as if he recognized something in him that she was still trying to deny.
“The other females,” she said, forcing her mind to practical matters. “The other two humans. Are they… is anyone doing this with them? Trying to form a bond?”
His expression turned guarded. “There are no other Cire males in this facility. Naran has it locked down. Veyalor believes that will provide a good control.”
No other males.The words sent a spike of something hot and uncomfortable through her chest—something that felt shamefully like jealousy even though she had no claim on Becsul. What happened with the other women was none of her business.
But the thought of him sitting with another woman the way he’d sat with her, holding another woman’s child, looking at another woman with those deep black eyes…
“Are you—” She stopped, horrified by what she’d been about to ask.
“Am I what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Melissa.” His tail hovered close to her waist, pausing just short of contact. “Ask me.”
She swallowed hard. “Are you assigned to the other women too? Is this… is what you’re doing with me happening with them as well?”
The silence stretched between them, and she felt her face heat with embarrassment. It was a stupid question. A possessive,irrational question that revealed far too much about feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“No.”
The single word was quiet but absolute.
“No,” he repeated, his black eyes holding hers. “There is no one else. I visit them daily to check on their welfare, but that’s all. I couldn’t—” He stopped, his jaw tightening. “Even before I understood what was happening, I couldn’t have touched another female. Not when you were here.”
The confession hung between them, raw and honest, and the wall she’d been building since the moment she’d been taken, the barrier of fear and distrust that had been the only thing keeping her sane suddenly cracked. She wanted to tell him that she felt it too. That whatever this bond was, it wasn’t one-sided. That when she’d kissed him, it hadn’t been simple gratitude—it had been need, desperate and undeniable, a reaching towards something she hadn’t known she was missing.
But the words stuck in her throat, trapped by years of self-reliance and the voice in her head that whisperedhe’s still my captor, he’s still part of it, I shouldn’t trust him.
“The other women,” she said instead, retreating to safer ground. “Can I see them? Meet them?”
He shook his head reluctantly. “That would be difficult to arrange. You’re kept separate for a reason—Veyalor doesn’t want the subjects interacting and comparing experiences. He’s worried it might compromise the data.”
“The subjects.” The clinical term scraped against something raw inside her. “We have names, you know. Histories. Lives we were taken from.”
“I know.” His voice was heavy with regret. “I know, Melissa. And I’m sorry. If I could change any of this?—”
“But you can’t.” She gentled her tone, seeing the genuine pain in his face. “I know you can’t. I’m not blaming you.”
Not anymore, she added silently. She had blamed him, at first. She had lumped him together with the guards and the scientists and everyone who saw her as a means to an end rather than a person. But that had been before the night with Robbie’s fever. Before she’d seen him willing to risk his position—maybe his life—to protect her from a guard’s rough handling.
“I can’t arrange a meeting,” he added slowly. “Not without raising suspicions. But I have been able to do something for them. I provided them with clothing and datapads and arranged for them to have time outside.”
“Really?” She sat up straighter, hope flickering in her chest. “That’s… thank you.”
