Page 9 of Risking Her Heart

My knees are weak, almost too weak to keep me up. As if he senses the betrayal of the one purpose of my legs, he tightens his grip. Most of my weight is on him. I turn until I’m facing into him, forcing him to stop with the nibbling kisses. Our eyes meet and any words I might have said die in my mouth.

I had intended to protest. To tell him how stupid this was. That I have no business going on any kind of an adventure. That this is not me.

I intended to, but that intention is gone. Looking into his eyes, staring at my own reflection, I see something different. I don’t look like me. I look bold. Brave. In control.

Is this what he sees?

It’s a stupid, crazy thought. I’m looking at my own reflection and projecting my own thoughts onto it. Yet it feels like there is some truth to the idea. I cannot doubt that he sees me differently than I see myself.

When he looks at me, I feel… beautiful. Not a word I’ve ever used in reference to myself. If anything, I always thought I was more of a plain jane, as my grandmother would say. Just… me. Nothing special.

But not in his eyes. When he looks at me, I feel like I’m somehow more. The way his eyes burn as they bore into me. Asif he’s trying to memorize every detail. The way his lips twist up, showing his broken tooth. But it’s not only one thing, it’s everything.

“Treasure?” I ask.

It’s not the word I meant. Not the protest I should be giving. The refusal to go out and across the sands to face who knows what. But it’s the word that comes out. The question that I ask. And his smile widens, his eyes light up, then he moves his hands to my hips and turns me so that I’m fully facing into him. He closes his wings around us, not something I realized could happen, but it creates a sense of privacy despite knowing all the others are on the other side of the thin leathery membranes.

“Mine,” he whispers, but this time it sounds different.

It’s not a claim so much as a question but not really a question. Not fully. More a query. I get the idea that for him it’s all a foregone conclusion, but he is also trying to not force me. All this idea from a single word too. Am I reading way too much into all of this?

My biggest flaw has always been overthinking to the point of not acting. An opportunity presents itself and I freeze into inaction because while I’m busy looking at every possible nuance, the chance goes away.

Pretty much every boy I’ve been with has not only made the first move, but they’ve also insisted upon it. Throwing themselves at me or taking my hesitation and silence as assent. It’s all been okay, but not once have any of them acted like he is. Giving me time, space, and more than anything, consideration.

If that’s really what he's doing and I’m not just reading a bunch into him, and this, that isn’t what he means at all. He’s an alien,sure, but he acts like a man. Well, not that different from a human man, I mean. Clearly, he’s a man. That erection he was pressing to my ass left no doubt about that, and even thinking about it makes me warm and wet.

I blink as I realize he’s waiting. Patiently. I need to answer. Say something. What? What do I say? Yes? No, no, too bold. Too forward, and I don’t know that I’m his. I don’t know him, how can I be his?

But I want to know him. Fuck him, yes, but more. I want to know and understand him.

I blink again, because I’m still stuck, and I hope on some level that blinking will communicate to him that I’m not having a seizure or something. At least I’m not sputtering. Only because I refuse to open my mouth, but still, take the victories where you can, right? That’s right girl, take them.

“Maybe?” I say finally.

I don’t know what I expect him to do in response but it’s not what he does. He laughs. Which really throws me off. Laughter isn’t the right reaction at all. Anger. Pulling back. Upset. Those would all make sense, but he laughs and now he’s nodding.

He trails his finger tips over my cheek then brushes a stray hair away from my face. His smile is wider than ever as he nods.

“Yes,” he says.

Did he not understand? His Common isn’t good. Maybe he thinks I said yes? Oh shit, what am I supposed to do now?

A million terrible outcomes flash through my head. Every one of them seemingly worse than the last. I must make him understand but what am I supposed to say?

“I don’t… uhm… I said maybe… not yet. You understand?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding with all the enthusiasm as if I’d just asked him to bed.

“Uh,” my racing thoughts aren’t forming words again. I take a breath, hold it, then shake my head. “You’re sure? You… get? Understand?”

“Yes,” he says, his head bobbing up and down without diminishing his enthusiasm one bit.

Which doesn’t reassure me in the slightest. If I said yes, then sure he would be excited. I didn’t, yet he is? I frown, clenching and unclenching my jaw. I try to think of some way to be sure he gets what I mean, but I’ve got nothing.

“Kat,” Nyanna calls from outside the protective curtain formed by his wings.

“Yeah,” I say, tearing my attention off of Zas’tu.

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