Chapter 17
Chloe
I woke to the sound of the door opening and the rich, savory aroma of roasted meat drifting through the cottage. Disoriented, I blinked against the soft light filtering through the woven slats, my body still curved against Nansar's warmth. How long had I been asleep?
A female Welati glided into the room, carrying a wooden tray laden with food.
She was tall and willowy, with intricate markings flowing along her arms like living art—whorls and geometric patterns that shimmered in the firelight.
Everything about her screamed confidence, from her impeccable posture to the deliberate sway of her hips as she moved with the kind of natural grace that made even the mundane act of carrying a tray look seductive.
Her gaze swept over me with all the interest one might give a dust mote, then locked onto Nansar with the intensity of a cat spotting a mouse.
And stayed there.
A knot of something hot and possessive twisted in my chest. I recognized that look.
I'd seen it countless times back home—in bars, coffee shops, anywhere women gathered when an attractive man walked by.
But this felt different. More threatening.
Her eyes traveled over Nansar's bare chest with undisguised hunger, lingering on the bandages I'd so carefully wrapped around his torso, and her lips curved into a smile that had nothing to do with politeness and everything to do with invitation.
"I brought food for the warrior," she purred, her voice like honey dripping from a spoon—sweet, syrupy, and entirely too deliberate.
She set the tray down on the small table near the sleeping platform, taking her time, making sure to lean forward just enough that her loose tunic gaped suggestively.
I'd noticed that Welati females varied in their endowments, much like Earth women.
This particular female had clearly won the genetic lottery and knew exactly how to use it to her advantage.
Nansar stirred beside me, his arm still possessively circling my waist. "Thank you," he said, his tone polite but distant, almost bored.
The female either didn't notice or didn't care.
Instead, she straightened slowly, deliberately, tilting her head as she studied him with open appreciation.
"I watched your challenge. Very impressive.
" Her eyes flicked to me for just a heartbeat—dismissive, calculating, as if measuring the competition and finding it lacking—before returning to him like a magnet to steel.
"I also heard that you have not yet fully claimed your human. "
My stomach dropped. Heat flooded my face—part mortification, part fury that burned through my veins like wildfire.
"If she does not appeal to you," the female continued, her voice dropping to something sultry and inviting that made my skin crawl, "perhaps you would consider a female of our kind instead.
A warrior such as yourself deserves..." She trailed off meaningfully, running one hand down her side in blatant invitation, her fingers tracing her curves.
"Someone who can properly appreciate your strength.
Someone who knows how to satisfy a male of your. .. caliber."
Oh, hell no.
I sat up so fast that Nansar grunted in surprise, his arm falling away from my waist. "Out," I said, my voice cold enough to freeze fire.
The female blinked at me, clearly not expecting resistance from a mere human. "I was merely offering—"
"I know exactly what you were offering, and the answer is no. Now get out." I pointed at the door, my hand trembling with barely contained fury.
She had the audacity to look amused, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching as if I'd just told a mildly entertaining joke. "The human has claws." She turned back to Nansar with renewed interest, her smile widening. "How delightful. The offer stands, warrior. When you tire of—"
"OUT!" I was on my feet now, stalking toward her like a woman possessed.
I might have been smaller, might have been human, might have been from a different world entirely, but I'd had enough of this bitch and her wandering eyes and complete disregard for boundaries.
Back on Earth, I'd kicked plenty of ass when the situation called for it, and right now, the situation was screaming for it.
My eyes landed on the woodpile stacked near the firepit. Without thinking, operating purely on instinct and rage, I grabbed a stick from the top—not large enough to do serious damage, but substantial enough to make my point crystal clear.
"I said OUT!" I swung the stick in a wide arc, not quite making contact but close enough that she had to step back quickly to avoid it, her eyes widening in genuine surprise.
"You dare—"
"Oh, I dare." I advanced another step, brandishing my makeshift weapon like a sword, my heart pounding in my ears. "And if you don't leave right now, you're going to find out exactly how much I dare."
Behind me, I heard Nansar make a sound that might have been a laugh, or maybe a groan, or possibly both.
The female's gaze darted between me and the stick, then back to Nansar, as if expecting him to intervene on her behalf and call off his crazy human.
When he remained silent—watching with obvious amusement dancing in his eyes—her expression shifted from smug confidence to something closer to respect, or maybe just the self-preservation instinct kicking in.
"Very well," she said, her tone considerably cooler now, the honey gone from her voice. "I see the human is more... spirited than I assumed."
"You have no idea," I said through gritted teeth, gripping the stick hard enough that my knuckles had gone white. "Now move."
Something in my expression—probably the barely leashed violence simmering just beneath the surface—must have convinced her I was deadly serious.
She raised her hands in mock surrender, that infuriating smile still playing at her lips like she'd won some private victory, and backed toward the door with measured steps.
"As you wish. Enjoy your... spirited human, warrior. "
The moment the door closed behind her, I heard it—a low, rumbling sound that made me spin around.
Nansar was laughing.
"It's not funny," I snapped, my heart racing with adrenaline, my entire body vibrating with the aftermath of confrontation.
"No?" His eyes were bright with amusement, practically glowing in the dim light, and despite the pain he had to be in, he was grinning like he'd just witnessed the most entertaining spectacle of his life. "You should have seen your face. I thought you were going to throw her through the wall."
"I considered it." I crossed my arms over my chest, still bristling. "And you just sat there enjoying the show!"
"What would you have had me do?" He shifted carefully on the sleeping platform, wincing slightly but never losing that infuriating smile. "Deny myself the pleasure of watching you defend what is yours?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "You are magnificent when you're angry, Chloe."
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to be distracted.
I stalked back to him, jabbing a finger at his chest—carefully avoiding his injuries.
"You're mine," I said passionately, the words tumbling out before I could stop them, raw and possessive and utterly shameless.
"I don't care what their customs are or who thinks they can just waltz in here and offer themselves to you. You. Are. Mine."
The laughter faded from his eyes, replaced by something more intense—something that made my pulse thunder in my ears. "Yes," he said simply, his voice rough with emotion that sent shivers racing down my spine. "I am yours. Completely."
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with devastating tenderness. "And you are mine."
The words sent a shiver through me, igniting something deep in my core that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with desire.
Before I could respond, he pulled me down to him, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that made my knees weak and my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.
I kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring all my fear and relief and possessiveness into it, tasting the promise on his lips.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I became acutely aware of how close we were. How his hand had slid down to my waist, fingers splayed possessively across my hip. How my fingers were tangled in his thick platinum hair, the silken strands wrapped around my knuckles.
"Nansar," I whispered, my voice husky and breathless. "Your wounds—"
"Are healing." His other hand joined the first, both now spanning my waist, pulling me closer. "We Aljani heal fast. Much faster than humans."
"But—"
"You are my best medicine, Chloe." His eyes were bright blue-green, fixed on mine with an emotion that made heat pool low in my belly and spread through my limbs like liquid fire. "The only medicine I need."
He kissed me again, and this time it was different—slower, deeper, a deliberate claiming that stole the breath from my lungs.
His lips moved against mine with devastating tenderness, each stroke of his tongue a promise, each gentle nip a question.
His hands mapped the curve of my spine with reverent touches, as if I were something precious, something sacred.
Heat bloomed everywhere he touched, spreading through me like wildfire.
When his fingers found the fastenings of my borrowed dress, they fumbled slightly with the ties, and the small imperfection made my heart squeeze.
This powerful warrior, reduced to trembling hands by wanting me.
I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze in the dim light, and what I saw there—raw need tempered by infinite patience—made my decision for me.
My own hands shook as I helped him work the fabric free, gasping softly as cool air kissed my heated skin.