Page 58 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid
An ache settled into her heart. There were moments where he was so boyishly innocent, she’d taken for granted how much he must have endured under the Aurillon. He wasn’t some sheltered kid learning the world outside his bubble for the first time. He was the victim of an abusive, eugenicist empire that saw him as nothing but a tool. Of course, they’d hurt him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… it just looks so painful.”
“It is nothing,” he said more sharply, avoiding her gaze.
If she could have hit a button to blow that big, golden ship out of orbit just then, she would have done it without hesitation.
“Of course. My mistake.”
“You need to eat,” he told her, blatantly changing the subject as he fussed with the unfamiliar items on the tray he’d brought.
Not wanting to perturb him any further, she obediently grabbed what looked like a fluffy roll straight from her favorite steakhouse. When she bit into it, she found the flavor wasn’t what she’d expected—it was a little sour in addition to being sweet, but the texture was so good that she couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure. Rentir’s ears twitched.
She cleared her throat, battling the urge to devour everything in sight as the food brought her hunger roaring to life.
“You eat something, too.” She pushed the tray at him.
“I will be?—”
“Eat.” She glared.
He sighed and grabbed something from the tray that reminded her of beef jerky, tearing into it with his sharp teeth.
Cordelia ate until she thought she might actually die from her stomach bursting. There were tart pink berries that Melam had apparently foraged—a fact Rentir seemed profoundly annoyed by. More pastries that were clearly meant for more luxury clientèle, like the roll she’d eaten. She found that some of the others were stuffed with strange fillings, both savory and sweet. The jerky Rentir kept eating didn’t suit her—too tough and spicy—but he hardly touched anything else on the tray.
“You don’t like pastries?” she asked with her mouth full.
“They are alright,” he said, picking up a thin slice of bloody meat she hadn’t even attempted to eat. It was covered in some kind of fragrant herb that smelled suspiciously like fresh dill. “But I am not able to easily digest such things.” His sharp teeth glinted as he opened his mouth, and his long, black tongue snaked out to snag the meat.
She paused, lowering the berry she was holding. “Are you a carnivore?”
He blinked at her as he chewed, swallowing before he answered. “I am not meant to be.” He shifted nervously. “Theauretians are omnivorous, and so too are their hybrids. Easier to feed that way. More economical.”
She pushed the plate of meat closer to him, encouraging him to eat his fill.
“Haerune believes there is too much of my majority donor within me. He says they are called the Venai, but we don’t know much more than the very basics of their biology. They are obligate carnivores.”
“Did they accommodate you?” she asked, though she thought she already knew the answer. “The Aurillon, I mean.”
He dragged the plate to the edge of the table. “They did not know. I was not sure if they would view it as an error. If they did, they would have retired me. The symptoms of illness began to manifest as I reached maturity, and Haerune urged me to keep it quiet. He gave me his portion of protein at every meal.”
Her heart softened toward the surly scientist. “It’s lucky you had him.”
“Yes. Very lucky.” He grabbed another slice of meat. “He is a good male with strong character.”
“Like you,” she mused, bracing an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand.
He looked surprised by the compliment, and that broke her heart. His tail twitched on the cushions beside him.
“I… I am not…” His gaze grew faraway, snapping back into focus as he shuddered. “I try to be.”
“You’re succeeding.” She reached across the table to squeeze his hand.
His mien grew troubled as he studied their joined hands. Rentir’s fingers twitched beneath her own, and then he pulled away, tucking his hand beneath the table.
The sting of rejection jabbed at her, and she wondered if it had been as sharp for him when she’d gone cold. They’d just been intimate with each other, yet she’d never felt more distant.He had every right to pull away. She was being hot and cold. Sighing, she slumped back on her elbows amid the cushions, letting her bloated stomach stretch.
She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but the anxiety of all the things she still had to accomplish kept her from rest. Still, the food and the orgasm and the familiar chlorine scent in the air went a long way to keep her from giving over to the simmering urge to panic.
