Page 58 of I'm Not Your Pet

It wasn’t a pleasant memory.

And it never managed to hurt any less every time I thought of it. Like having my heart broken by both of my parents on the same night had rearranged something fundamental inside me. Here I was, a galaxy away, and their actions still affected me. My parents taught me that love meant distance. It meant effort when it was necessary for your reputation but not when it was needed.

I wasn’t sure why Roark’s earnestness had brought this memory to the surface.

Except…maybe Ididknow.

Because Roark wasn’t like that.

Roark was the antithesis of what my parents were. He was warm where they were cold. Serious and kind. Gentle. Attentive.

I had the feeling, if I had invited Roark to my birthday party he would’ve been the first to arrive. He would’ve broughtme flowers, and pizza, and cake. He would’ve played my dumb games, even though he probably wouldn’t have understood what they were talking about, or even liked them. He would’ve told me happy birthday.

He was just that kinda guy.

Aneffortkinda guy, with a capital E.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and vowed to make this up to him.

I vowed to be better.

To trust him more.

To put in the effort he was, and see what could happen.

To allow the boundless optimism I’d always had to extend to him the way it should’ve all along.

My parents were shitty parents. I knew that. And it wasn’t fair to judge Roark based on their broken relationship with each other and with me. He wasn’t them, just like I wasn’t.

And maybe I was his pet, but I was quickly coming to realize I didn’t care. The way he treated me spoke volumes. And I was grateful now more than ever that he’d decided to take me in.

When Roark returned a few hours later something between us had shifted, only he didn’t know it yet. His movements were silent as he shut the door behind him—careful not to “wake” me. When he shucked off his “day pants” and donned his “night pants” (they looked the same, honestly), every movement was careful. Sneakily, he climbed into bed with me for the second time that night, careful not to jostle me too hard—though the effort was wasted because his size made that super fucking impossible.

The whole bed jiggled, but I pretended to sleep through it so he wouldn’t feel bad for waking me. Roark waswarmas he settled behind me. All my earlier thoughts drifted away, his heat scaring them off as a sense of safety settled over me. He pulled the blankets over us both. And when he tucked his nose againstthe nape of my neck, and immediately started purring like a giant squishy panther, I felt peace.

Roark held still—probably to make sure I was still asleep—before he gave in to his own desires and began tentatively nuzzling my hair. His deliciously hot breath blew against it as he rumbled, very obviously pleased to be back in bed with me. Roark relaxed with a weighty sigh, like holding me in his arms had been what he’d been waiting for all day.

And then, because he was wonderful, he did the one thing I never would’ve expected.

But maybe Ishould’ve.

“Good…night,” Roark said—in perfect English—his voice heavily accented and thick with sleep, “little…beast.”

Little beast?

The words were so sweet I burned from the inside out. Throwing caution to the wind, I curled my arms around his and squeezed.Fuck pretending to sleep.Hugging Roark back was more important. Roark chuckled softly, holding me just as tight.

A few friendly tendrils wrapped around my limbs, wiggling till our bodies were smooshed so perfectly together I couldn’t tell where one of us began and the other ended. Roark’s purring eventually evolved into a quiet, sleepy snore.

His hearts thumped.

Thump, thump, thump.

When I was sure he was asleep, I gave one of his tendrils a kiss as a hot tear leaked down my cheek. I wasn’t sure how he was doing this. How he was healing my childhood, years later, with gentle words and gentle hands.

But he was.

Because the truth was, he may be an alien, but he was far more human than anyone I’d ever met before. And I may be his pet, but Roark was teaching me what it felt like to be loved.

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