Page 21 of Gyft

“Silly man, I can walk. I mean, I single handedly saved the day, ya know. And you probably can’t keep yourself from being so infatuated, this I also know—”

“Female, you babble incessantly. Even when you know we can’t understand each other.”

“Anyone ever tell you how handsome you are?” Bride nibbles my earlobe, her breath warm and sweet. “Maybe we can run away together. To that city that’s two miles away. I can still be a nanny—” she looks over my shoulder at the twin souls standing with their parents at the bottom of the stairs— “and you can maybe be a farmer like him? I know you’re a bodyguard by trade, but maybe you can teach self-defense or something?” She sighs, and then lays her sweet head—already changing color—on my shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to smooth over things with your boss. Explain the attraction that happened with us when I saved your life.”

I let her babble in her strange, melodic language, swiping my hand across the handpiece of the door to our suite. It swings open and I stride straight over to the bed, hearing the door click shut behind us.

She continues to babble, even grabbing my hand and twining our fingers. I squeeze hers gently. It no longer bothers me that she’s so different. So small, missing a finger and a breast, fangless, without freelig to spike out and protect her.

She needs me for that. It seems like kismet that my weak mate—err, bride—is paired with the strongest protector there is.

I didn’t even want this pairing. This marriage. A pang of regret washes through me at the idea of what I could have lost out on.

Bride looks up at me with sparkling, deep green eyes. Murky, like the sea, with a darker ring around the green that makes them mysterious and beautiful, yet lined in white.

I could stare into the strange, alien eyes all day long.

“What is it, handsome? You’ve been acting weird. You know I’m all right, right? Not hurt. I mean, I came close, but I persevered. I’m a lifesaver and I don’t just mean with CPR.”

I smooth her strange human freelig from her forehead. It’s so soft and delicate. And is no longer the vibrant color of rubies—the color that first attracted me.

Now it is truly colorless, all pigment gone. She needs to know.

I reach into the nightstand for a small hand mirror. I hold it up to her sweet, smiling face... and watch the smile fall.

“What the—?!”

Bride grips the handle of the mirror, her eyes grow wide and she reaches for a lock of her freelig. She fingers it and brings it forward to her face, to see for herself, as if the mirror lies.

“White hair? What happened? When did this happen? Oh, my God. The brats. The same thing happened to their little alien spikes, right? On their head? And yours.”

She reaches up and runs the palm of her hand over the top of my freelig, white since my early adulthood. I grip her fingers, pulling it from my head, and kiss the center of her palm. I want her to know it’s okay. That even though I chose her for the strange coloring of the curtain on her head, I am keeping her. That the white human freelig is still attractive, albeit different than the vibrant color of jewels.

Jewels that I intended to adorn my ugly bride with in an effort to mask her looks. I thought people would be distracted with the rubies that matched her hair.

Now they will no longer match.

“It’s all right, beautiful,” I croon, cupping her neck, my finger strumming along her jaw. I bring my forehead to hers and close my eyes.

It’s a fitting nickname for her. She’s not at all ugly like I first assumed. Her strange looks have grown on me.

Her beauty is more delicate than obvious... just like her strength. She singlehandedly faced the deadlands and lived. Everyone who sees the shock of white freelig will know that.

They will be impressed with that.

Horror dawns in my gut. Will she be impressed with other males? I’m not sure she likes me... she hasn’t really given me any indication that she does. Not that she can, we can’t figure out what each other says. And somehow, I need to make her understand I’m a catch. The best our planet has to offer is already in her grasp.

Or... maybe I’ll make her so addicted to me, she’ll never want to leave me for another male.

Very carefully, I brush my lips to hers.

A soft gasp escapes her. It’s so feminine, and husky, and surprised that I want nothing more than to do it again.

“Bride,” I murmur, and kiss her parted lips.

A tingling hits my lower belly. She’s delicious. She moans into my mouth. At my kiss.

Arousal cascades down my spine and gathers in my ball sack. What is it about this little human that magnifies every nerve ending inside me? She arches, fitting her body to mine like a perfectly cut puzzle piece.

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