Page 80 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

“My lord, you must rest...”

“...not leaving her...”

A warm weight pressed against my hand. Familiar. Safe. The rumbling purr vibrated through the mattress, a constant anchor as I floated between consciousness and shadow.

Time slipped. More voices.

“...my lord, at least eat something...”

“Later.”

The purring stopped. A calloused thumb stroked my palm, gentle despite its roughness. Someone was speaking - harsh consonants softening as they shaped unfamiliar words.

“Ku... kuralai...” A pause. Paper rustling. “My queen. Wake soon.”

Tharon. Learning Terran, for me.

I tried to squeeze his hand. My fingers barely twitched, but his sharp intake of breath told me he’d felt it. The purring resumed, louder. More hopeful.

Opening my eyes took monumental effort. The room swam into blurry focus - wooden beams, drying herbs, afternoon light slanting through tall windows. And Tharon’s face, drawn with exhaustion but blazing with intensity as he watched me.

“Niam.” My name came out more growl than word.

I tried to speak. My throat felt raw, unused. He lifted a cup of water to my lips with infinite care, his other hand still gripping mine.

The water soothed my throat. “How...” Even that single word was an effort.

“Six days.” His voice was rough. Had he been speaking at all during that time? “Serra says... healing good. Strong.”

His Terran was awkward but determined. I managed to turn my head slightly, taking in more details. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair tangled. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. A book lay open on the bed beside him - a children’s primer, well-worn.

“You’re learning...” I whispered.

His lips curved slightly. “Need words. To tell you...” He struggled, then switched to Valti. A stream of soft growls and rumbling syllables that I couldn’t understand, but their meaning was clear in his eyes.

Footsteps on the stairs interrupted whatever he meant to say next. Serra appeared, her practical apron stained with fresh tanning solutions.

“Finally awake properly, are you?” She moved to check my pulse, shooting Tharon a pointed look. “My lord, now would be an excellent time for you to get some actual rest. In a real bed.”

He growled something that made her roll her eyes.

“I’ve been treating tannery workers longer than you’ve been alive. I can handle one recovering girl for a few hours.” Her tone softened. “She’ll still be here when you return.”

Tharon looked torn. I managed to squeeze his hand again, stronger this time. “Go. Sleep.”

He pressed his lips to my fingers, then forced himself to stand. Every movement showed his exhaustion. But at the door he paused, looking back with such naked emotion that my breath caught.

“Return soon,” I whispered.

His smile was worth the effort.

Serra helped me sit up, checking the crystal burns on my arms with efficient hands. “Healing well,” she said, mixing something pungent in a cup. “Though you gave us quite a worry. That one wouldn’t leave even during the fever.”

The tea tasted bitter but sent warmth through my limbs. “The city?”

“Settling.” Serra’s sharp eyes assessed me. “But that’s for later. Rest now.”

She was right. Even this brief conversation had drained me. As she lowered me back against the pillows, my eyes were already growing heavy.

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