Page 40 of An Alien for the Future

A part of me—a larger part than I care to admit—expected him to be here waiting. Maybe pacing anxiously, ready to launch into another impassioned speech about how we’re meant to be together, yada yada yada. That’s what I’d steeled myself for when I finally worked up the courage to leave my bedroom.

But this? This absence? It makes me feel like I have no clue what I’m doing here. And probably I don’t.

I set the bowl down on the kitchen counter, my mind whirling. That’s when I notice the pot simmering gently on thefire. Curious, I lift the lid and a rich, savory aroma wafts up, making my mouth water. Some kind of stew, by the looks of it.

He rifled through my cupboards and found more food. Guess he’s better at reading the ingredients New Horizons left me than I am. I’ve been eating mostly tinned stuff, relying on the pictures on the labels and taste-testing my way through.

I stare at the stew before taking a ladle and giving it a stir. It’s a bit too thick and I add a little water, my lips pursing as my eyes narrow on the food.

Fine. I’m impressed. Not just by the fact that he’s cooking—again—but by the consideration. He’s not here hovering over me, but he’s made sure I’ll have something to eat later.

That’s…that’s more thought than I can say for some of the men I dated on Earth. And I know I shouldn’t compare, that my bar is probably far too low, but I can’t help it.

“Damn it,” I mumble, replacing the lid on the pot. “I can’t let him in so easily.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, right? I’ve seen what happens when Kari find their “fated mates.” I’ve witnessed it firsthand with Catherine and Varek.

Now that was something to behold. Varek had been…well, wild doesn’t even begin to cover it. It was like watching a man transform into a beast before my eyes, all frothing need and desperate longing. He’d been mad with the desire to claim Catherine, to mark her as his own. And Catherine, for all her initial resistance, had been just as caught up in it. The love between them had been palpable, electric.

But this thing with Tovan? It’s nothing like that.

And…

I swallow hard, setting the ladle down as I step out of the kitchen. Wrapping my arms around myself, I try not to get into my own head. But I have to face the music as well—every heartbreak, every disappointment, every moment I felt unwanted or unworthy.

I’ve spent so long convincing myself that maybe I’m just not meant for that kind of love, that soul-deep connection I’ve seen others find. But now…

Now there’s Tovan frickin’ Kamesh. Tovan with the strong arms and deep voice who claims I’m hiskahl, his fated mate. Tovan, who looks at me with an intensity that both thrills and terrifies me.

Wouldn’t it be just like the universe to finally give me what I’ve always longed for, wrapped in a package I’m too scared to open?

I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes. “Nothing good comes easy.” It’s a mantra I’ve repeated countless times over the years. No one just frolics through the bushes and stumbles on their Prince Charming like some Disney princess.

But then…has it really been easy? I was abducted, ripped away from everything I knew and loved. I’ve faced challenges and dangers I never could have imagined back on Earth. Maybe…maybe all of that was leading me here. To this moment. To him.

That I deserve someone who wants me with such a strong bond it would chase my breath away…is it really possible?

My breaths are a bit unsteady as I clutch my chest. Because I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want it. Everything he’s offering with this mate bond. I want it all. For someone to love me, to want me, with such an intensity it consumes me, body and soul.

Like Catherine and Varek; the raw, primal connection between them.

A breath shudders from me and I open my eyes, wiping away tears that brimmed. I’ve spent so many years giving up on that dream. Am I a fool to even consider it again now?

Giving myself a shake and taking a few huge breaths, I gather my bearings once more. I stand there for a moment, unsure what to do with myself. The cottage feels different somehow, as if Tovan’s brief presence has altered it in some subtle way I can’t quite pin down. It’s still my space, but now it holds echoes of him—in the lingering scent of the soap he used, even in the stew bubbling on the stove.

Driven by a restlessness I can’t shake, I make my way to the front porch. The afternoon sun is warm on my skin as I step outside, but there’s a slight wind today. Stronger than usual. For a moment, I just breathe in the familiar scents of hay and earth.

That’s when I spot him.

Tovan is out in the field, wielding what looks like a scythe with surprising skill. His movements are fluid, almost graceful, as he cuts through the tall grass. I find myself unable to look away, mesmerized by the play of muscles, the way his scales shift and roll with each swing.

It’s…beautiful.He’sbeautiful. Because even though I’ve convinced myself he’s a pest, I can’t deny that. The sun glints off his scales, creating patterns of light that dance across his body. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. He’s tall, handsome, strong…thick.

My heart quickens as I remember the way he picked me off that floor as if I weighed nothing. The good Lord knows that the dizziness didn’t dampen the feeling of those strong arms or the way his hard body felt against mine.

He makes quick work of the grass and my eyebrows rise a little when I notice even Gertrude seems to be trailing him, her thick frame ambling in the path he’s making. At one point, he stops and talks to her and she bays, nudging him with her nose before she nibbles on some of the grass he’s cut. Seems I’m not the only one getting too used to his presence here.

I’m so caught up in watching him that I don’t realize he’s finished until he’s walking toward me. Crap. I turn to the hanging baskets, pretending to prune some of the leaves.

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