With a sigh, I turn, ready to leave. I don’t even know if I will ever see her again. Short of positioning myself outside her door another sol, how would we cross paths?
The thought turns over in my head as I make my way off her porch. For a moment, I consider simply walking away normally, but then a ridiculous thought strikes me. What if she’s watching? What if she sees me leave with barely a sign of the injury she so carefully tended to?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I hobble dramatically towards the transit path. It’s a pitiful display, really. A Kari warrior, limping like a wounded animal. But some irrational part of me hopes it will show her that her efforts weren’t in vain, that she truly helped me.
I’m halfway across her yard when I hear the door open behind me. My core-beat stutters in my chest, but I force myself to maintain the charade, continuing my exaggerated limp.
“Hold on now…” Her voice floats out, a mix of concern and something else I can’t quite place. “You better—” I turn, trying to keep the surprise and joy off my face. Her voice muffles and I find her bustling back into the lodge. She appears again a second later, slipping her feet into her boots. “This alien is gonna bethe death of me.” It’s muttered under her breath, but I hear it anyway.
She thinks I’m going to cause her demise? That isnotwhat I intended. But when her gaze meets mine, it isn’t worry I see there. Well, at least, not for herself, I don’t think.
She’s worried aboutme. The thought is so unexpected, it sends a jolt of warmth right through me. But before I can savor it, she’s at my side, her clawless digits on my arm, a touch that sends another jolt through me. This time, raw, powerful electricity shoots down my spine.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you hobble off into the sunset like that,” she says. And then I realize how ridiculous I must look—a towering Kari male, pretending to be crippled by an injury that will most certainly heal without delay.
Shame washes over me. What am I doing? This isn’t who I am. This isn’t how a warrior behaves.
Her touch, light yet insistent, guides me towards the remains of a tree.
“Here,” she says, steering me toward the stump. “Lean on this for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“I—”
“No buts, Mr. Tovan.” Her tone. It’s laced with that same authority that I’m finding surprisingly…endearing. “Now, lean here on this rotten tree while I fetch you something.”
Before I can even process the whirlwind of sensations her touch has unleashed, she’s gone, her retreating form a blur of blues and reds.
I lean against the tree, my willpower not as strong as I thought. This whole charade is getting more complicated with each moment.
A few clicks later, the human reappears, carrying a thick, sturdy branch, stripped of its leaves and smoothed at the top.I’m not sure what she intends to do with it till she reaches my side and plants it into the earth at our feet.
“Here,” she says, thrusting the upper end toward me. “This should help you keep the weight off that leg. Now, did you manage to call someone while you were waiting?”
Her gaze is sharp, assessing, and I know she’s not just asking about transportation. She’s watching me, testing me, trying to decipher the truth behind my next words.
“I have transportation.” I dip my head slightly in respect to her and to communicate my gratitude. Because she has brought me a walking staff. I might not need it, but her care and attention strike me deep anyway. It’s a small gesture, this crude walking stick, yet it means more than she knows.
I take the staff from her, feeling its weight in my claw. It’s a simple thing, but sturdy and well-crafted.Just like her. My gaze heats before I can stop myself.
“Thank you.” My voice ends up a bit more gruff than I want. “I am forever in your debt.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” But she nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Can’t have you stumbling around out there, now can we? It will make me look bad. Now, about that ride…”
I would laugh at her joke but something else swells in my throat. A ball of tension. I’m suddenly aware of how close she’s standing. Her scent envelops me, an intoxicating mix of that sweet trace and something more.
“It’s just…that way.” I gesture vaguely toward the transit route.
“Oh, alright.” Her brows furrow now in a way I’m beginning to realize is skepticism. “I’ll walk you to the road, at least. Make sure you don’t fall into a ditch or something.”
Before I can protest, she’s moving, her stride purposeful. I have no choice but to follow, leaning on the staff more for show than actual need.
We walk in companionable silence, the shadows creeping across the sky and settling around us like a blanket. I’m acutely aware of her presence beside me, of the way she occasionally glances up at me, her eyes unreadable brown pits that have me desperate to know what she’s thinking. Because although I’m ecstatic that she graced me with her presence again, I’m more than aware that it is only for a brief moment. As soon as we get to the transit route, we will part ways and she will be gone again.
But as we near the transit route, I can see the confusion growing on her face. There’s no vehicle in sight, no sign of any being waiting for me.
“I thought you said your ride was here.” She’s staring at me now, but it isn’t full-fledged. It’s a sideways look as her eyes narrow.
That hard thing in my throat swells. I’ve backed myself into a corner. “It’s…across there.” I admit, gesturing to the pasture beyond.