Page 10 of Grumpy Alien Lumberjack
Even her name felt different on his tongue, soft where Majaki names were hard, musical where his people's words wereguttural. She had looked at him this morning with hunger. Like he was worth wanting.
That was dangerous thinking.
He adjusted the pack and increased his pace. The hyep wouldn't venture out in daylight—he had told her a small untruth about that. The predators were strictly nocturnal hunters. He could have safely escorted her back to the human colony today, but the thought of delivering her to that male, Rusik, made his blood burn.
The familiar scent of his cabin—cinnamon, she had called it—reached him before the structure came into view. His heart pounded faster. Foolish. He was behaving like a youngling with his first attraction, not a seasoned warrior who had seen more battles than he cared to count.
Pressing his palm to the scanner, he waited for the lock to disengage. The door swung open to silence.
"Jeneva?"
No response. He deposited the supplies on the kitchen table, noting the empty bowl where she had forced down his admittedly terrible porridge. The memory of her trying to spare his feelings made something shift in his chest.
"Jeneva?" Louder this time.
Nothing.
Concern prickled along his spine. Had something happened?
He moved through the main room, past his bedroom, toward the bathing room at the end of the hall. The door stood partially open, warm moisture escaping through the gap. He pushed it wider and stopped.
She was in the hot spring, arms folded on the stone edge, head resting on them with her face toward him. Eyes closed, features relaxed. Her naked back was exposed from the waterline up, revealing the full extent of the metal plates running from her neck down her spine. They disappeared beneath the water at thecurve of her lower back. The surgical scars around each plate had healed but left thin white lines against her pale skin.
His chest constricted. She had been broken and pieced back together. Just like he had been.
A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, meeting his. For a moment, neither moved. Then awareness flooded her features, and she slipped back into the water until only her head remained visible.
"You’re back.”
"I called for you." His voice came out rougher than intended.
Pink colored her cheeks. "I think I dozed off." She bit her lower lip, and his attention zeroed in on the gesture. "It’s a little too deep for me to get out on my own.”
Something primitive, possessive rose within him followed by a burst of guilt. He had left her helpless without even knowing it.
"I will help you." He moved to the edge of the spring, kneeling on the warm stone. "Tell me how to do this without causing you pain."
“I think you’re going to have to just lift me out.” Her eyes strayed to the towel.
Following her gaze, Methic grabbed the towel and spread it between his hands. “Ready?”
She nodded and he gripped her beneath her arms. The towel pressed against her front, as he lifted her slightly, but he couldn’t wrap it around her without dropping it or her.
As she began to rise from the water, he kept his eyes locked on her face so he wouldn’t see anything if the towel failed. Water cascaded down her pale skin as he lifted her out of the spring. Fumbling with the towel, she tried to wrap it around herself, but it was already soaked through. Making sure she was steady on her feet first, he quickly untied his shirt and shrugged out of it.
“What are you doing?”
“You are shivering.” Methic draped the shirt over her shoulders. “I will not look while you put your arms in the sleeves.”
The towel made a slopping sound as it hit the damp stone floor. He wanted to look. Very, very badly.
“I’m done,” she breathed. “Thanks.”
His hands lingered on the shirt, but she crossed her arms over her chest to hold it in place, so he let go. Daring to finally look, his chest tightened to see her wrapped in his shirt. The sleeves covered her hands, the hem dropping to her calves and yet, he had never seen anything more perfect.
Realizing the ends of her hair were dripping, he picked up the towel and find a dry corner. “Your hair…” He gently gathered her hair into his hand and squeezed out some of the water. She was soft, even though his shirt, her slight trembles making him want to pick her up and hold her against him until she was warm again.
Jeneva shuddered and hugged herself tighter, he skipped using the towel and nudged her gently. “Sit in front of the fire.”
