Moving slowly, every instinct screaming at her to stop, she transferred Robbie into his waiting arms.
The effect was immediate.
Robbie’s crying stuttered, hiccupped, and then… stopped. His small body, which had been rigid with tension for hours, suddenly went limp. He blinked up at the alien’s face with those huge dark eyes, and his expression shifted from distress to something that looked like curiosity.
“What—” Her voice shook. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He adjusted his hold slightly, cradling Robbie against his broad chest as his tail came up to gently pat Robbie’s back. “I told you. He was reacting to your fear. I’m a stranger, but I’m not afraid. There’s nothing to feed his distress.”
As if to prove the point, Robbie let out a small, contented sigh and turned his face into Becsul’s chest. Within moments, his breathing had evened out, his eyes fluttering closed.
He was asleep.
He was asleep.
She stood frozen, watching her son rest peacefully in the arms of an alien, and something complicated twisted in her chest. Relief, certainly—overwhelming, bone-deep relief that Robbie had finally stopped crying. But also something else. Something that felt dangerously close to gratitude.
“Eat.” His voice was soft, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby. “While he’s settled.”
She should argue. She should demand to know what was really going on and why this particular alien was being so unexpectedly… kind. But she was already moving towards the food tray, grabbing the strange alien bread and stuffing it into her mouth with an involuntary moan. There was nothing special about it but after hours of not eating it tasted unexpectedly delicious. After that she ate mechanically, fueling herself while she had the chance.
And across the room, Becsul stood perfectly still, her son cradled gently in his arms, watching her with those unreadable black eyes.
Who are you?she wondered.And why do I feel like I can trust you?
CHAPTER FOUR
The infant weighed almost nothing. Becsul stood motionless in the center of the cell, acutely aware of the small warm body pressed against his chest. The child had settled into sleep with startling speed, his tiny fist curled against the fabric of Becsul’s uniform, his breathing slow and steady.
Why does this feel so right?
The thought unsettled him with its intensity. He had held infants before, back before the Red Death had swept through his people like wildfire, leaving empty nurseries and silent houses in its wake. He remembered the weight of his sister’s daughter in his arms, and the way she had looked up at him with those curious black eyes, reaching for his face with clumsy fingers.
That had been twenty years ago. She was dead now, like so many others.
But this child… this human child…
Something fierce and protective surged through his chest, entirely unexpected and deeply alarming. He barely knew this infant. He had no connection to him, no reason to feel anythingbeyond clinical interest. And yet every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to keep this small creature safe from any threat. His tail patted the small back protectively.
Across the room, Melissa was eating with single-minded focus, barely pausing to breathe between bites. Despite her obvious exhaustion, there was something about her that made it difficult to look away. Her body was small and curved, her softness unexpectedly appealing. But it was the sharp intelligence in those dark eyes, and the fierce set of her jaw that really drew him. The way she’d positioned herself so she could watch him constantly, never letting him out of her sight even as she ate. Like a warrior.
She’s magnificent.
The thought slipped past his defenses before he could stop it, and his tail curled involuntarily towards her, seeking contact. He forced it back.
What is wrong with me?
She was a prisoner. A subject in an experiment he had only just learned about. She was terrified and exhausted and had every reason to despise him, and he was standing here admiring the curve of her cheek and breathing in her scent like some untried youth.
Focus. He was here to assess her welfare and ensure she was being properly cared for. Nothing more. But his tail had other ideas. It swayed towards her again, drawn by some instinct deeper than conscious thought, and he had to physically clench his muscles to keep it still.
She finished the last of the meal and sat back wiping her hands as her eyes returned to him, sharp and assessing.
“He’s still asleep.”
“Yes.”
“How long do you plan to stand there holding him?”
