Page 37 of An Alien for the Farm

“Of course, I do,” I smile, before clearing my throat. My cheeks burn. “It’s basic decency.”

He huffs a soft laugh before reaching for one of the drinks. As he tilts his head back and swallows a few mouthfuls, my gaze skips over his skin. His scales glisten slightly. Sweat, I believe. Before I realize just what I’m doing, I have the towel in hand. When I press it against his shoulder, he freezes but doesn’t say a word.

I swallow hard but don’t pull away. This isn’t professional. I’m breaking my own rule. Standing, I step over to him, dabbing the towel across his shoulders, a lump rising in my throat and something fluttering in my belly at the utter power underneath my hands. Slowly, Zynar reaches for the sandwich and begins to eat. He chews as I continue dabbing the towel, neither of us mentioning what I’m doing, neither of us speaking about it. When my free hand rests on his other shoulder, he stiffens again, a low purr in his throat that makes that little bud between my thighs respond.

I ignore it. God, at least I try to. Using the towel, I wipe away the sweat as best as I can. I’m almost done when he groans slightly as I wipe a particular spot on his shoulder. I’m not sure what it is, so I run my hand over the spot again. It feels tense, hard, and Zynar groans again.

“What’s this?” I whisper, my skin hot from all the thoughts I’m trying not to think. Poking the spot lightly, my gaze shifts to his face, trying to gauge his reaction. He grimaces.

“Just an ache. Injured that spot in the war. Never truly is relaxed.”

“Oh…”

“Muscle is tense.” He takes another bite of the sandwich and I watch him eat, a million thoughts in my head. Some screaming at me to stand up and walk away and some more quiet insistent ones telling me to do the opposite.

“I can help you with that,” I whisper. He pauses mid-drink, the can in his hand. “I can massage it for you.”

Zynar’s head moves slightly to the side and I know he’s watching me through his periphery. “You would do that for me, Little Bird?”

He asks it as if it’s such a big deal. “Yes, of course.”

“This dark cycle?” he asks.

My heart rate picks up. “Tonight? Sure.”

He nods, chin to chest, and I guess that’s settled.

For more minutes than I need to, I clean the sweat off his scales. Even when I’m done, I linger still. “Tell me about the war. You said you have no home?”

He stiffens once more and I don’t think it’s because of my touch. Setting the can down, he stares off into the distance and I regret asking him something so personal. I really have no right when I’m here trying to keep him at arm’s length—although, admittedly, completely failing at it. Zynar’s looking off into the distance and I think he won’t respond, but then he speaks.

“We were chids,” he says. “Varek and I. The Tasqals sent their minions to raid our villages. They killed many. Our por, he died in the first wave. Our mor in the second.”

My breath stalls as I stare down at him from where I stand. He’s said it all without inflection. I can’t tell if he’s trying to hide his pain or his anger—or if he’s just at that state where pain does one of two things: makes you numb or makes you laugh. Still staring off into the distance, the look that passes through his strange eyes is one even I can comprehend.

Pain. Loss. Trauma.

I stare at him. At this male who seems so happy and self-assured, knowing that right at this moment I’m seeing a part of him that’s private. Intimate. Vulnerable.

“Me and Varek…we were alone. We formed a resistance with some of the Restitution rebels who came to help us. But we suffered many losses.” He releases a breath, slitted gaze shifting to me. “We have no home, Liora, because they destroyed it. Do you know why?”

A ball of emotion is in my throat as I adjust my glasses on my nose. “It doesn’t matter, does it? What they did was wrong.”

Zynar’s gaze shifts across my face as if he’s taking me in before a slight smile stretches his lips. “They wanted to harvest our virility.”

I stare at him, a million thoughts rising in my mind at that single sentence. “I …don’t understand.”

He smiles again slightly, his gaze still shifting over my features. And for the first time, even though I’m aware I’m being seen, that I’m visible to him, I don’t squirm. I don’t want to hide away. I feel like I bloom.

“They used machines,” Zynar continues, his voice low, his gaze shifting away from me again. “They captured some of us. Restrained us. Attached devices to us.” Almost absentmindedly, his arm shifts to his lower abdomen. I can’t see the shadow of what he’s touching. Whatever it is, it’s hidden beneath his trousers. “They forced us to produce and release the vital substance they coveted.”

Horror fills me. “Oh, God.”

Zynar smiles at me, but it isn’t like all the times he’s smiled at me before. There’s no mirth there now. I fall to my knees. Without hesitation, my arms wrap around this big alien’s broad shoulders as I pull him into me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I knew the aliens that took us were horrible, but the more I learn about that species, the more I realize just how utterly horrible they were. “They took from me too, but it’s all over now. We’re safe here on Hudo III. This place is a new home for us both.”

Zynar is still as hard as a rock, but I feel him slowly melt against me. “For you, Little Bird. You have a new home. And that is a good thing.”

---