Page 81 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

“Serra?” I managed.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For taking care of both of us.”

Her weathered hand brushed my forehead. “Sleep, child. Heal. There’ll be time for everything else later.”

I drifted off surrounded by drying herbs and the lingering warmth I still felt from Tharon’s hand.

The next time I woke, golden evening light filled the room. Tharon sat in his chair, freshly cleaned and changed, frowning in concentration at his book. He mouthed words silently, testing their shape.

“That’s a nice sight,” I said softly.

His head jerked up, joy flooding his features. He looked years younger after real sleep. “Feeling stronger?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie - my voice worked better, and the room stayed steady when I moved my head. “What are you reading?”

He held up the book, embarrassed. “Children’s stories. Serra says... good for learning.” His words were already smoother. “About girl who finds dragon egg.”

“Read to me?”

He hesitated. “My grasp of your language is still bad. But I would learn, for you.”

“I don’t mind.”

After a moment, he began reading slowly, carefully shaping each word. When he struggled, I helped him, and sometimes he taught me the Valti word instead. The story wove through the growing dark until Serra brought lamps and more tea.

Days blurred together. I grew stronger while Tharon remained my constant - reading stories, supporting my first attempts to sit up, sneaking sweet pastries past Serra’s watchful eye. But sometimes I caught him watching me with a haunted look, as if afraid I might still slip away.

One evening, as he smoothed my hair back from my face with surprising gentleness, I finally asked. “What happened? After?”

His hands stilled. “You were so cold.” His voice roughened. “Thought... thought you were gone. But there was heartbeat. Tiny. We ran. The Temple...” He switched to Valti, frustrated by the limitations of his Terran.

I reached back, touching his hand. “Show me instead?”

He moved around to face me, taking both my hands in his. Through gestures and broken sentences in both languages, he told me about the escape - the voices guiding them, the families helping, the city rising up. When he described carrying me, thinking me dead, his hands tightened on mine.

“I heard you,” I whispered. “In the systems. Your roar broke through everything else.”

Something fierce and tender crossed his face. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine. We stayed like that, breathing together, until Serra’s step on the stairs made him pull back.

But that night, after Serra had gone and the tannery grew quiet, he didn’t return to his chair. Instead, he carefully settled on the bed beside me, letting me curl against his warmth. His purr rumbled soothingly through my bones.

“Tell me about Zashi?” I asked.

His voice was soft in the darkness as he described his home - the mountain peaks, the wild forests, the great stone halls. I fell asleep to tales of snow and starlight, safe in the circle of his arms.

Morning sun had barely touched the windows when a sharp rap announced Denna. She stood in the doorway, grinning at finding us tangled together on the narrow bed.

“Well, if you’re well enough for that, you’re well enough for visitors,” she said cheerfully.

Tharon growled something that made her laugh, but he helped me sit up against the pillows before reluctantly heading downstairs. His hesitation at the door made Denna roll her eyes.

“I promise not to let her strain herself,” she said. “Go. Korrin wants to discuss patrol rotations anyway.”

Once he was gone, she settled into his chair with a grunt. “Getting harder to move gracefully these days.”

I studied her more closely, noting the subtle changes in her shape. “Denna!”

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