Alien, Awakening

by Sandra Harris

  “I . . . don’t know.”

  He doesn’t know.

  The vulnerable confusion he allowed her to see in his features tugged at her compassion. She gave him a wry smile.

  “Well I guess that’s as good a reason as any as to why you haven’t voiced your requirement of me.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted, but no spark reached his shadowed eyes.

  “Kathryn, I . . .”

  Heartened by his apparent reluctance to outright lie to her, she stared into his unwavering gaze. She could succumb to the ever-building sensual fire dragging them together like oppositely polarised magnets. And the result? She’d get emotional, he wouldn’t, and that would be . . . another trip to hell.

  Heck, she’d be claiming frequent visitor points to the damned place at this rate.

  But what if he did? What if he came to care for her? A whole world of tantalising potential shone before her, almost, almost blinding her to the deep chasm of risk she’d have to jump in order to achieve that prize.

  She wasn’t sure she had the courage to take that leap of faith. Not after the horrors she’d already endured. It had taken her a long, angry time to forgive Matthew for dying. His leaving had felt like half her soul had been vaporised, torn from her molecule by existential molecule.

  She couldn’t go through that again. Not after the psychological beating she’d taken from the Bluthen. She just wasn’t strong enough.

  Yet still the idea of T’Hargen caring for her on a profound level lured her thoughts, enticing her to glimpse a future full of infinite wonder, bound within a loving, stable relationship.

  Her memory screamed at her to acknowledge the significance behind the scars marking his body. The dangerous, classified missions he undertook. Missions that could easily see his demise. She shied away from the idea of loving someone who put themselves in harm’s way so often.

  She couldn’t chance it. Not again. The lessons she’d learned from previous— Her thoughts convulsed as two ideas ploughed into each other like a couple of mammoths ramming head on.

  The lessons I’ve learned from previous moments in my life . . . Is that plain experience or . . . What if T’Hargen isn’t the only one mired in the past?

  ~ ~ ~

  T’Hargen shifted uneasily beneath Kathryn’s intent gaze. She seemed lost in thought, emotions flashing across her beautiful face in a mystifying range from hope to fear to denial, and finally shocked surprise. She blinked, her eyes opened wide, and she drew in a sharp breath.

  He took the collapsible water bowl and placed it on the ground. One of her hands lifted, hovering near his jaw. Warmth from her fingers brought forth sparks of sweet electricity to arc across his skin. Oh yes, he’d accepted his physical response to her was not an anomaly, but there was something else he wanted, needed from her. When he’d held her to him atop the wall and felt peace press upon him he’d ached to grab it and hold tight. He fought the urge to lean forwards and complete the connection, by no means certain she’d react positively to the evidence of his growing desire. For surely if she made bare contact with his jaw-plates, the passion smouldering there for her would leap to his cranial ridges and swell them with lust.

  “I owe you an apology,” she said.

  Say what? He searched through the pleasurable haze fogging his mind.

  “You do?”

  Her melancholy nod reflected the regret in her eyes.

  “I do. T’Hargen, I apologise most sincerely for calling you a murderer.”

  Her drone added to her sentiment with a derogatory burble. She dropped her hand and placed an index finger on its nose.

  “Stop that, TL.”

  T’Hargen repressed a growl. She would touch the drone and not him? Did she trust it more than him?

  “You’re no more a murderer than I am,” she added.

  Conflicted remorse spun through her eyes and he placed a hand on her shoulder then rubbed his thumb over the tender skin of her neck. She tensed, then relaxed. Pleasure from the simple contact and her acceptance of it soared through him.

  “I owe you my life, Kathryn. If you hadn’t shot that Bluthen . . .”

  “I had nightmares for weeks about him wielding that blade and cutting out your beating heart.”

  A particle of gratification seared through the guilt hollowing his chest for her having suffered that. Dear g’Nel there must be something horribly wrong with him to be pleased that his near demise haunted her sleep. Did his life mean that much to her?

  Possibly it had. Once.

  He recalled the sharp lines of bitter, angry determination etching her face as she’d run towards the Bluthen preparing to carve his hardened chest-plates from his body to keep as a war trophy. Her focus had been complete, her gaze never faltering from her target. She’d just about drained the energy from the particle gun firing into the Bluthen. He suppressed a callous grin. There hadn’t been much left of their enemy by the time she’d finished, not much more than a charred, glutinous lump.

  Her subsequent concern for him bordered on possessive, and some damaged part within him had made an instinctive reach for the completeness of soul it knew she could help him achieve.

  He should have listened to himself. Listened to the arguments that roared at him to not let her go, to not reject her. But all he’d done was become angrier with himself for the emotion. Seen himself as weak, breakable, for needing aid.

  Kathryn dropped her head back to the rock wall, her eyelids lowering. “And then I was shaking so badly I managed to cut you with his damn blade while I hacked at the cords binding your wrists.”

  Guilt assailed him. “If I hadn’t been so careless I wouldn’t have been drugged and captured in the first place, and you wouldn’t have had to add that to your torment.”

  She opened her eyes and a forlorn smile tilted her lips.

  “Ah, T’Hargen, the thing that sometimes bothers me is that I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  A boiling surge of need to wrap her in his arms, protect her against all odds, and luxuriate in the safety-of-soul she represented jetted through him. Within his mind he straightened, stood tall, and stared truth in the eyes. He could no longer afford to ignore the terrible fear that the cold, hard pit deep within him expanded with each day, threatening to suck him back into the past and trap him there, leaving his future to drift away beyond reach.

  And here she was apologising to him when he had so much more to repent.

  “I accept your apology, if you will do the same.”

  She tilted her head to one side, her dark eyebrows tipped downwards in question.

  “First of all, I’m sorry for shooting your friend,” he said, jerking his head towards the drone.

  Her mouth quirked on one side.

  “No you’re not.”

  Ah, she sees through my untruth.

  “You are correct, though I am sorry for the distress it caused you.”

  She straightened her head, disturbed dust motes glinted in the muted light and drifted from her once glossy hair to her clothing. Her level gaze assessed him as though looking deep into his psyche. g’Nel, he barely understood the changes transforming him, fighting for recognition, from a man terrified of emotional contact to something much more, what would she see?

  “Thank you, T’Hargen, I believe you.”

  A rumble from her stomach kicked his conscience. He wasn’t much of a partner. He should have anticipated her need for food. He delved into a pocket for a square-cake and held it out to her. Her long, graceful fingers accepted his offering and her smile eroded more of the deception he’d cloaked himself under.

  I am the Universe’s biggest fool. What made me think that refusing to accept colour and brightness into my world for fear of losing it would keep me safe from hurt? All I did was create a
dark place in which to live.

  He ran his appreciative gaze over Kathryn’s dishevelled form. Even here in the near dark her presence brought warmth and prisms of light into his world. He could not let that precious gift drift away.

  Drift away . . .

  Threads of comprehension wove into his mind, dazzling and beautiful, illuminating a path to the promise of something profoundly wonderful. He stood on the threshold of awakening to enlightenment and breathed in the rich, spiced-sugar scent of the future.

  It is she. She is my future. Mine alone.

  His heart dilated to encompass an unidentified emotion of such raw vitality he felt the very vibration of the Universe.

  “Is something wrong?” Kathryn asked.

  He sought her eyes, hoping he presented his deepening appreciation for her clear in his features. Strength he’d been missing for years forged through his deprived spirit.

  “No, Kathryn, nothing is wrong.”

  Her eyes widened a fraction then a look of uncertainty flickered in her gaze. She gave him a hesitant smile, yet an undercurrent of radiance filled it with beauty.

  His breath seemed to sparkle in his lungs.

  “Good. Do you want to share my square-cake?”

  What I want you to share with me is your mind and body.

  He growled down the words making a spirited attempt to be heard, and shifted a little to ease the congestion developing between his thighs and his trousers. Hot, needy sensation prickled the base of his cranial ridges.

  “Is that a no?” she asked.

  A sharp whistle from the drone halted the unconscious sway of his body towards her. That, and the orange blur of the thing’s weapons priming. He would not chance an antagonistic encounter with the drone while Kathryn remained quite literally between them. But there would come a day . . .

  “Hush, TL.” Kathryn laid a hand on the drone. “It’s alright, I know.”

  “Know what? Is he alerting to something?”

  “Only that we should get some sleep before morning.”

  That has the ring of a minor untruth. He eyed her lovely features for signs of artifice. What had the drone communicated? He snorted. Most likely something unsavoury about me.

  He settled by Kathryn’s side, brushed his tricep against her shoulder, and stretched out his legs. She held a broken half of square-cake up to him.

  “Reckon we’ll be able to find food here if we need to?” she asked.

  Pride filled him at the steady calm of her voice and he accepted the morsel she offered.

  “Thank you. If necessary, yes. Have you your scanner?”

  “I do. It’s not as flash as yours, just the basic model we were all issued.”

  “It’s capable enough, able to determine the chemical suitability of any biological matter for consumption. If you’ll pass it over I’ll programme it for you.”

  She leaned into her left hip to gain access to a back pocket, her shoulder pressed further into his arm. Her breasts swayed towards him. Almost touched his tricep. Anticipation seized every muscle, every thought bar the proximity of the innocent, close, lushness taunting his desire. He tried to drag his gaze away—the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable around him—and failed miserably.

  Her shoulders wriggled, her breasts jiggled.

  He nearly choked on his tongue.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kat pulled at the scanner in her back pocket, but the damn thing seemed stuck like the sofa in Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. Irritation flared as she tugged at it again, and again failed to free it. She twisted, lifted her hip and finally managed success.

  No temporal interference required.

  T’Hargen bent the knee closest to her and rested his foot near her thigh. Part of her brain vigorously semaphored for attention, insisted she note a particular detail about the big Angrigan by her side. She straightened, handed over the scanner, and focused on reviewing the last few seconds.

  Hard stone beneath her butt. The gentle, golden luminosity of TL’s light casting shadows on the increasing snugness at the crotch of T’Hargen’s trousers. She caught her breath.

  Oh my! Definitely a big Angrigan.

  She sneaked a peek at his cranial ridges.

  Unquestionably swelling. So he’s either extremely irate with me or . . . extremely not.

  A bright curl of wayward delight unfurled within her, squealed then did a hot, little jig around her stomach. Her fears rose and billowed like the dark cape on a sinister figure, challenged her desire, her craving to get closer to this man.

  Am I living in the past? Letting my doubts colour my judgement? Denying my feelings for him because of it? Or is that reaction sheer good sense?

  She searched her memory for some indication of genuine care from him, proof that his interest was more than sexual. Was it there in the way he touched her, the way he guided her over rough patches of ground? Made sure she had food and water? The way he simply stood next to her, offering the solid support of his body when things got rough?

  Can I trust that? What he seems to be offering? Even so, those scars of his didn’t come from simple carelessness. Will he abandon me like Matthew? Just how far is he willing to commit to me? Do I even have the right to try and convince him to lead a less dangerous life?

  Perhaps she could tie the sexy hunk of male down and urge him to be receptive to the idea of making a relationship work . . . A sweet, aching pulse throbbed at the mouth of her sex. A moan slid up her throat. She tried to smother it, but only succeeded in turning it into a groan.

  “Are you well, Kathryn?”

  Apparently nothing a few hours with a willing you wouldn’t fix. She closed her eyes in self-castigation and refused the temptation to bang the back of her head against the rock wall. Not helping, Kat.

  “Kathryn?”

  She turned to him and gazed into the concern marking his features. Only moments ago, when he’d removed his visor for her, he’d allowed her to see a vulnerable side of him. Her intuition whispered she was quite possibly the only witness to any part of his emotional distress in years. In his own way he was reaching out to her, she could meet him half way, take the first tentative steps to trusting him.

  She laid a hand on his knee and gave a gentle squeeze.

  “I am well.”

  His gaze wandered over her hair and across her shoulders.

  “Despite being whisked from your home, dumped on two different planets, and covered in rock debris.”

  Appreciation for his sense of humour hummed through her and she tilted the corners of her mouth upwards.

  “Yes, despite all that. Though at the earliest opportunity I’m in for a long, warm bath.”

  “I will ensure that happens.”

  In that case, you can join me.

  Hot longing stretched through her muscles and she swallowed a resigned sigh.

  I really must learn to control my thoughts.

  Her fears still agitating at the corners of her mind, but unable to conquer the bright flare of optimism swirling within her, she curled into his shoulder and went to sleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kat opened her eyes to a chorus of rasping growls filtering in from outside. The first gentle light of dawn seeped into the cave mouth.

  Ugh. Morning already?

  Defiant disappointment slouched across her mood and she snuggled a little closer to T’Hargen.

  T’Hargen? Recall—or was that optimistic lust—surged gaily through her mind. Ohhh, yes.

  She rubbed her cheek one last time across the silky cloth covering his chest then lifted her head to gaze at him. His heated stare brimmed with . . . Her sleep-muzzy mind struggled to identify the emotions. Possessiveness and gratitude? His arm tightened around her back, lifted her c
loser. Her breasts, pressed against the hard pack of his chest, hungrily absorbed the contact. A yawn sprang from her lungs as she blinked and covered her widening mouth with one hand.

  “Oh dear, pardon me.” She patted the dense muscles rippling T’Hargen’s stomach. “Thanks for letting me use you as a pillow.”

  “The pleasure”—he cleared a rough edge from his voice—“was all mine.”

  She eyed the strong planes of his face. They seemed less severe than usual, more relaxed. “You look rested. Did you get some sleep?”

  His sea-green eyes darkened into deep appreciation and his gentle gaze caressed her face. He lifted a hand and brushed her sleep-mussed hair from her brow and cheeks.

  “I . . . did. Are you hungry?”

  “I’ll go you halves in a square-cake.”

  T’Hargen rose and she scrambled to her feet. One of his hands secured her elbow, provided support. She smiled her thanks and accepted the breakfast he offered.

  “There is a well-flowing creek nearby,” he said. “We can refill our water bottles.”

  She stretched her arms above her head, twisted her body this way and that to get the kinks out, and followed him outside. Damn, she must have been tired to be able to sleep like that.

  Thin mist drifted in patchy swathes so deep she couldn’t see the sky. Curvy, bare, round-limbed trees, seemingly sunk in a clear, pearl-grey sea, dotted a green, grassed area carpeted with golden-brown fallen leaves.

  “If you wish to avail yourself of the facilities,” T’Hargen said, “they’re behind those rocks.”

  She turned in the direction he pointed. A sheer rocky escarpment rose above the cave entrance. To either side huge, charcoal-coloured boulders stood amidst a small forest of delicate ferns. She pocketed her breakfast and wove carefully through the lavender and green fronds to gain some privacy.