Page 142 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

“There.”

He kisses me.

This time I have no doubt that he wants me. The only caution is for the injuries.

He kisses me, then follows my jaw to my throat, stopping whenever I tense for the wrong reason and continuing when I pull him closer. I learn the places on him Merra did not wrap. The warmth of his skin between the dark plates. The old scars at his shoulder. The line of his neck above the old collar scar. The command anchor is still there, but it no longer owns him.

When my fingers brush the swollen scar beneath his throat, he goes quiet and I stop.

“Bad?”

“No.”

“Rhazek.”

His eyes meet mine.

“I want you to touch what they could not keep.”

I stop thinking about all the reasons to be careful and press my palm gently over the scar. He breathes out slowly. Nothing else answers.

He covers my hand with his, holding my palm against the scar instead of hiding it.

He squeezes my hand once.

I kiss him because I can’t think of anything better.

Soon our clothes are in the way. The bandages make everything awkward. His damaged wing catches once on the blanket, and we both freeze until he shifts it safely against the wall.

“This is extremely graceful,” I say.

“I was promised human mating involved less equipment.”

“Who promised you that?”

“No one. I hoped.”

I laugh against his mouth, and he laughs too. After that, neither of us tries so hard to make the moment perfect.

We undress slowly, working around wounds and wraps, laughing when we have to, stopping when something hurts. There’s no performance in it. No proof. No one watching through a machine.

Just the shock of his skin beneath my hands and the way he keeps watching my face for every answer.

He pauses when there’s almost nothing left between us.

“Kessa.”

“I’m still here.”

“Do you want this?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

I touch his face.

“All of you. The difficult parts too.”