Page 17 of Mated to the Grumpy Alien

“I don’t know for sure, but I have traveled widely since arriving and I have seen no signs of a civilization that has declined. So, I assume the past.”

I nod, then open my mouth to ask the next question I have cued up in my mind, but before I can get it out, his hands slip from my hips up to cup my jaw and I feel awareness jolt through me.

“Enough questions, my be’lahshuk. You have had a long day.”

I let out a harump of laughter. “I’ve only been awake for like, an hour.”

“Still, you are thirsty for more than answers and you must be hungry too. Let me take you home and feed you.”

He leans down as if to kiss me. I feel my blood heating in response, my skin prickling everywhere he touches me in a way that’s so sharp it borders on pain. His touch is fire and it stirs things in me I’ve only read about in books, and even then never believed were real.

I feel myself rising on to my toes, my gaze dropping to those full, sensual lips of his. Those lips that already know my body. That have already tasted me in something more intimate than a mere kiss.

Abruptly, he steps back, trailing his hands down my arms to take my hands in his. “Enough.” His voice sounds rough and he clears his throat before speaking again. “That is enough for now. I will feed you and then you will rest. And tomorrow I will show you the rest of our fortress.”

chapter

ten

Irick

My be’lahshuk is silent as I lead her back into the fortress. Cressida of Austin. It is a beautiful name, even if in my heart she needs no name. She will always simply be the one my soul and my body are bound to.

Before the great war, when my father would tell me of the bonding between he and my mother, I never truly understood. Yes, I knew their bond was deep. I saw it every day in the way he would care for her, bringing her her favorite foods and whispering jokes the rest of us never heard. I saw it in the way they interacted, sometimes moving as if one mind controlled both bodies. She would reach for something, and he would hand it to her without even looking for her hand.

There were servants who prepared most of our meals, but they would cook together for the Festival of the Moon Tides, a time when the leaders of the great houses cooked for the whole town, preparing every item in the menu by hand, in the old ways, without replicated ingredients, as a tribute to the bond between the people and the leaders. Watching them cook together was like watching a dance, they moved together so smoothly. Every gesture, every word fluid but precise.

I think I had forgotten all of that until tonight, when I pulled my Shuka to my chest and showed her Perse. Until she turned in my arms and I felt the drive to cup her face, to complete the bonding that began between us the first time my lips touched her flesh.

Now, as I’m guiding her back into the fortress, I remember how it was between my parents. How easy and peaceful it was. I know it will be like that between us someday, but not yet. Cressida is not ready.

As thrilling as it was to cup her jaw in my hands and feel the quickening in my blood as my wrists touched her neck, I can be patient. Because I also remember what she said when I first began the bonding. She doesn’t know what it means to be Be’lahshuk. She’s never heard of the Tides of Be’lah.

I know she is my mate, but she does not yet believe it.

That is fine. I will wait.

I can be patient.

And in the meantime, I will show her in every way I know how, exactly how precious she is to me.

When I lead her back into the cave, I take her straight to the small table by the fire alcove. “There is spiced tea if you want it.” I hold out the cup. “I can reheat it if you prefer it warmed. Though I have no dairy for it.”

She takes the cup, holding it in her palms, grinning. “Actually, I take my tea black.” She takes a tentative sip. “Hmm … it’s kind of like a chai latte.”

“And that’s a drink you like?”

“Yes.” She takes another sip. “But I guess it could use some milk.”

“Then I will find you an animal that produces it.”

She laughs, and her delight makes me feel like a king. Or like the god the people in the village believe I am. I tug her toward one of the cushions beside the low table. “There is other food.”

She sits, looking at the small bowls I laid out earlier while she was sleeping. “Raspberries?”

I give the word a moment to register, then nod. “Yes. These are similar. Perhaps smaller than the ones you are familiar with.”

She pops one in her mouth. “Oh! It’s a little tart, but the flavor is so much stronger!” She grabs another and looks at the rest of the food, seeming to catalogue it out loud. “Walnuts. Some kind of jerky. And bread?” Her gaze meets mine. “Where did you get bread? If I’m right about the villagers being Stone Age people, they aren’t farming wheat yet.”