Page 11 of Cherished By the Alien Outlaw

“Good luck with that.” I wasn’t mocking him, but weapons were a big ask for a god—gods, that is.

He grabbed a tray off the only table in the room, a rickety thing with only three legs, and placed it on my lap. “You should eat. Drink.”

I wasn’t picky about food. Maggie and I had to cook for ourselves after our parents died, and it was touch and go there for a bit. We ate a lot of ramen noodles and boxed mac ‘n cheese. The rare apple. Mom had been a fantastic cook, and she’d ruled the kitchen. We hadn’t grown up preparing our own meals, so there was a learning curve. We both got better. Within a year, we could make real mac ‘n cheese and even soups and a few desserts. The internet was an amazing thing.

“What is it?” I asked, grimacing at the meal. Although, he’d called this a cell, which implied prison. And I doubted a mining operation offered fine dining to their workers.

“I’m not sure. Some sort of meat. Vegetables. Bread. Eat it all. You need to regain your strength.”

He was right about that. It was all I could do to hold myself upright. I wanted to curl up on this uncomfortable bed and sleep for the next three weeks. I suspected that wasn’t going to be part of my future. And I also questioned where he’d sleep since there was only onebunk in the room. Maybe we’d take turns like the lizard guys across the hall.

“How long was I sick?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. They brought you here yesterday, and you were delirious.”

“Days then. That’s the only impression I got from the span of time when I started to lose consciousness.” I lifted a hunk of what I hoped was a piece of bread off the plate and bit into it.

It tasted like rancid meat. With a wince, I returned it to the plate and tried something else that wasn’t much better. But by better, I meant it didn’t taste like it had gone bad yet.

Incredibly thirsty, I drank most of the water that was surprisingly good. No weird aftertaste. No chlorine, either, which could be a bad thing. Would I get sick from the food or water? It wasn’t like I had much choice. Drink and eat or die.

Chewing, I looked up at him. “You should eat too.”

“Oh, I will.” He flashed me a smile.

Cute. Tusks the size of my thumbs jutted up from his lower jawline. They made him look fearsome, though I wasn’t afraid of him. If he’d planned to hurt me, he would’ve done it when I was half out of it and couldn’t fight him off.

A glance around the room showed me there was no second tray of food for him.

I stopped chewing, gaping down at what I’d eaten, which was more than half of what I’d found on the plate. I’d drained all the water.

“Where’s your meal?” I asked in a tiny voice.

“Don’t worry about me.”

That’s when I realized how truly tenuous our situation must be.

Chapter 7

Firion

Icould tell I’d upset her. She laid the cooked root she’d been eating on the plate and lifted the rest of the food my way.

“Eat this,” she said. “I’m super full.”

“You can’t be. You didn’t eat much.”

“Firion.” A growl came through in her voice. “Eat.”

I would not eat if she was hungry. “You need the food more than me. You were very sick. You’re still healing. Without it . . .” She could die. Then I’d want to die along with her. I nudged the plate back down on the tray. “Please continue eating. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve made yourself my protector,” she croaked.

“Always.” Until they killed me, which I hoped they wouldn’t do. I was strong, muscular. They’d see I had value. My biggest value to me would be in making sure my mate was safe and secure, both relatively unknown things in this place.

“How doyouexpect to stay healthy if you make me eat all the food?”

“I will be alright. You should finish it all.”

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