Page 77 of An Alien for Her Heart

Consciousness returns to me slowly, like swimming up through murky depths toward a distant light. The first thing I notice is the feel of soft skin beneath my claws, the scent of something sweet and familiar filling my airways.

My eyes flutter open and I blink rapidly, trying to focus my blurred vision. Gradually, the world resolves into the dim interior of my quarters, and the small, still form curled against my chest.

Catherine.

Memory crashes over me like a tidal wave and I jerk fully awake, a litany of curses in a dozen languages spilling past my lips. Stars above, what have I done?

She’s here, bare in my arms, her skin mottled with bruises and bite marks, her mane a wild tangle around her pale face. Even in the low light, I can see the claw-shaped impressions on her hips, the scratches marring the creamy expanse of her back.

Bile rises and I swallow hard against the sudden urge to be violently sick.Idid this. I hurt her, used her,ravaged her like a beast, with no care for her comfort or enjoyment.

Disgust and self-loathing churn in my gut. The most precious thing in existence to me and look what I have done. How can I…how can I ever fix this?

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I try to steady myself. The urge to hide, to turn away from the evidence of my savagery, is strong. Shame, hot and bitter, rises like fire in my throat.

But I force it down. No. I cannot hide from this. From what I’ve done. I cannot pretend it didn’t happen, cannot absolve myself of the responsibility. I am many things—a warrior, a killer, a monster in the eyes of many. But I am not a coward.

Slowly, gingerly, I ease away from her. But as I start to pull away, her brow furrows and she makes a small, distressed sound, her hands clutching weakly at my arms. My core-beat stutters. Even now, even after what I’ve done, she reaches for me, seeks my comfort and protection.

The organ in my chest aches with a pain I’ve never known before…and behind it…behind its strangled beats, there is something else. Something I never thought I would ever hear. Ever feel.

The rhythm that sings beneath every beat is sure and strong. My core-rhythm. My song for the very female clutching at me, seeking my comfort.

Catherine is mykahl. My whole being sings for her.

A strangled sound comes from my lips. She really is mine. This soft, beautiful female is mine. And I have harmed her.

My throat tightens with a swell of emotion I can’t name. Despite my disgust with myself, I can’t help but gather her close again, cradling her gently against my chest. She yearns for comfort after what I have done and when she wakes, she might not want me to touch her anymore.

At this moment, I am taking a liberty, and my core-beat stutters some more.

Catherine stirs slightly, her lashes fluttering as she struggles towards wakefulness and I go still. I am not ready to face this. To face her with my shame.

“Varek?” Her voice is a thready rasp, hoarse from overuse.

“I’m here, sura.” I smooth her tangled mane back from her face with a trembling hand, marveling at the softness of the strands despite everything. “Don’t move. You need rest.”

Her eyes finally blink open, hazy and unfocused but so very green in the dim light. She frowns up at me for a moment, confusion creasing her brow. Then memory seems to surface and her expression clears, a weak but genuine smile curving her lips.

My core-beat stills.

“You’re back,” she whispers, lifting a trembling hand to cup my jaw. “Really back.”

I turn my face into her palm, breathing in the scent of her skin, letting it ground me. “I’m so sorry, sura,” I rasp, the words tearing at my throat. “Catherine, I never meant to hurt you. I tried to keep control and still… What I did…it’s unforgivable.”

To my shock, she shakes her head, her thumb stroking gently over my cheekbone. “No. You didn’t hurt me. I mean, yes, I’m sore but…” Another genuine smile creases her face. “It was incredible, Varek. Being with you like that, so raw and…and real…it was…it was everything I needed.”

I stare at her, searching her face for any hint of fear or revulsion and finding only tired satisfaction, affection, and wonder. “You…enjoyed it?” I hardly dare to believe what I’m hearing.

Her smile widens and she nods, curling herself more snugly into my embrace with a contented little sigh. “Mmm, very much. Though I may need a day or two before we do anything like that again.” A light, shy laugh escapes her. “I’m going to need time to recover.”

Relief crashes through me, so intense it’s nearly dizzying. She doesn’t hate me. She doesn’t fear me. Incredibly, impossibly, she seems…happy. Content, even after the brutality of my rutting.

But I can’t let myself forget the marks I’ve left on her, the evidence of my violence written across her skin. I may not have hurt her heart or her spirit, but I have wounded her body. And that is something I must atone for.

“Let me tend to you,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead. “A warm wash to soothe your aches, something nourishing to eat and drink.”

She hums in sleepy approval, nuzzling into my throat. “That sounds perfect.”

---