Page 29 of Gravel and Grit

I’m going to kiss that man—alien—when he gets back.

Forgetting the growling in her middle for a moment, she pulled her hair over one shoulder and started the Herculean task of brushing out the tangles.

She was halfway up the length when she heard him return. Glancing up, she found him standing a few feet away at the edge of the small clearing, his wings pulled around his front to help him hold a massive stack of sticks.

When he didn’t finish his approach, she stiffened and scanned the forest around them.

“Zaek? Is everything okay? Do we need to go?”

He mumbled something to himself—something she was beginning to notice was a habit of his—but he didn’t answer. Mira cocked her head, wariness starting to become real worry, then followed his gaze and realized the slitted-eye look he was wearing wasn’t directed at her, but at her hand.

Why in the world does he look jealous?

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ZAEK

“She found it,” he murmured to himself, staring at the brush in Mira’s hand—the one he’d taken with the singular intention of using it on her himself.

He had not become so unsocialized as to think that randomly touching a female’s hair for no apparent reason was a thing males did, or something females would take kindly to. But, if she had a head full of tangles and he conveniently produced a hairbrush, he thought there was a better-than-good chance she would be so appreciative that she’d let him pet—er, brush it for her.

“I’m sorry. I was looking for food and opened your bag and it was right there on top. I thought, seeing as you don’t have any hair—not that I’ve seen, anyway—that it was for me. But I can put it back if you want,” she offered reluctantly, watching him like he’d completely lost his senses.

Abruptly dropping the sticks he’d gathered, Zaek took a step toward her before he stopped himself.

“You are tired,” he declared, a little more forcefully than he’d intended.

“Uhh, yes?” Her face screwed up in confusion and her response came out more question than statement.

He nodded sagely and continued, “Your knuckles are still injured and your arms are sore. Mine are not. I should do that for you.”

She blinked at him, but didn’t say no. She didn’t actually say anything.

Taking that as agreement, he grunted decisively and strode toward her. He

settled himself at her back, wings spread out behind him like a cloak, and stretched his legs out to either side of her bent knees.

Mira had tracked his progress and was twisted around, gaping up at him sitting behind her.

He plucked the brush out of her still-raised hand then gently guided her face forward with a finger on her chin. Tail twitching with anticipation, he tenderly gathered her hair in his fist and pulled it around until it fell down her back like a curly black waterfall.

“I’ve never had someone brush my hair,” she said softly.

A sense of pride filled him that he would be the first, even as he mentally criticized her pasttanem—temporary mates taken for companionship before a person found their true mate.

His voice was husky and a little garbled from the rapidly swelling gland when he whispered back, “I am honored to be the first.”

She sat stiffly for the first few minutes but, eventually, she relaxed.

“This is actually kind of nice,” she murmured.

He hummed an agreement, using his claws more than the brush at that point. All the tangles had been successfully vanquished, but he was enjoying himself too much to stop without her prompting him, which she didn’t.

After a while she started to sway before slowly, gradually, slumping against him. Zaek froze with one hand buried in her hair and the other holding her so she didn’t tip over and hit the ground. Craning his neck forward, he peeked at her face and found her sleeping, her eyes closed and her mouth parted just slightly.

That show of trust, that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms, was both humbling and exhilarating, even if it also meant he couldn’t pet her any longer without taking the risk of waking her up.

Poor bunny. She must be exhausted.

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