Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Robbie’s fingers closed around Melissa’s thumb with surprising strength, his dark eyes fixed on her face with that intense, unfocused gaze that infants had.
She smiled down at him, brushing her lips against his soft forehead, breathing in that sweet baby smell that never failed to settle something anxious in her chest.
“You’re getting stronger every day,” she murmured. “My little fighter.”
The door to her cell slid open, and her body tensed automatically before she recognized Becsul. He looked different today. There was something in the set of his broad shoulders, a careful quality to his movements that she’d learned to associate with news. Good or bad, she couldn’t tell yet.
“You’re back early.” She hadn’t expected him for several more hours. After yesterday’s examination and the incident with the guard, she’d assumed he would be tied up dealing with consequences.
“I needed to speak with you.” He came to join her next to the crib, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the baby. “Dr. Veyalor and I had a… conversation. About the experiment.”
Here it comes. She steeled herself, picking Robbie up and cradling him to her chest. “And?”
“He believes we’re compatible.”
The words hung in the air between them, loaded with implications she wasn’t sure she wanted to examine too closely. Compatible. Such a clinical term for something that felt anything but clinical when Becsul was in the room.
“Compatible,” she repeated carefully. “What exactly does that mean?”
His eyes met hers, and she saw something vulnerable in their depths—a hesitation that seemed out of place on someone so physically imposing. “It means he thinks the mate bond may be forming. Between us.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest as she thought about the way her pulse quickened whenever he entered the room, and the inexplicable sense of safety she felt when his tail brushed against her, and the way his presence made the cold walls of her cell feel almost bearable.
Is that the mate bond?
“You said it only occurred between two Cire.”
“So I was always taught, but it’s possible that the Council has been keeping it from us. His uncle believed differently.”
“And you believe him?”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” His voice was rough. “But Veyalor’s observation means that I can justify spending time with you. Official time. He wants me to… continue what I’ve been doing.”
“You mean he wants you to court me,” she snapped. “For science.”
“Melissa—”
“No, I understand.” She forced herself to take a breath and push down the complicated tangle of emotions rising in her chest. “It’s actually good news, isn’t it? If he thinks we’re compatible, he won’t try to pair me with someone else.”
The thought of another Cire male made her stomach clench with revulsion. When had that happened? When had this particular alien become the standard against which all others were measured?
“There won’t be anyone else,” he said, and there was a fierce certainty in his voice that made her look up sharply. “I won’t allow it.”
Something warm unfurled in her chest, dangerous and unwanted. She couldn’t afford to feel this way. She was a prisoner and he was her jailer. No matter how kind or how protective he was, whatever was happening between them was tangled up in circumstances that made it impossible to trust.
And yet…
She looked down at Robbie, still gripping her thumb, and thought about the way Becsul had held him during the fever. The gentleness in those huge hands. The way her son had calmed instantly in his arms, as if he recognized something in him that she was still trying to deny.
“The other females,” she said, forcing her mind to practical matters. “The other two humans. Are they… is anyone doing this with them? Trying to form a bond?”
His expression turned guarded. “There are no other Cire males in this facility. Naran has it locked down. Veyalor believes that will provide a good control.”
No other males. The words sent a spike of something hot and uncomfortable through her chest—something that felt shamefully like jealousy even though she had no claim on Becsul. What happened with the other women was none of her business.
But the thought of him sitting with another woman the way he’d sat with her, holding another woman’s child, looking at another woman with those deep black eyes…
“Are you—” She stopped, horrified by what she’d been about to ask.
“Am I what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Melissa.” His tail hovered close to her waist, pausing just short of contact. “Ask me.”
She swallowed hard. “Are you assigned to the other women too? Is this… is what you’re doing with me happening with them as well?”
The silence stretched between them, and she felt her face heat with embarrassment. It was a stupid question. A possessive, irrational question that revealed far too much about feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“No.”
The single word was quiet but absolute.
“No,” he repeated, his black eyes holding hers. “There is no one else. I visit them daily to check on their welfare, but that’s all. I couldn’t—” He stopped, his jaw tightening. “Even before I understood what was happening, I couldn’t have touched another female. Not when you were here.”
The confession hung between them, raw and honest, and the wall she’d been building since the moment she’d been taken, the barrier of fear and distrust that had been the only thing keeping her sane suddenly cracked.
She wanted to tell him that she felt it too.
That whatever this bond was, it wasn’t one-sided.
That when she’d kissed him, it hadn’t been simple gratitude—it had been need, desperate and undeniable, a reaching towards something she hadn’t known she was missing.
But the words stuck in her throat, trapped by years of self-reliance and the voice in her head that whispered he’s still my captor, he’s still part of it, I shouldn’t trust him.
“The other women,” she said instead, retreating to safer ground. “Can I see them? Meet them?”
He shook his head reluctantly. “That would be difficult to arrange. You’re kept separate for a reason—Veyalor doesn’t want the subjects interacting and comparing experiences. He’s worried it might compromise the data.”
“The subjects.” The clinical term scraped against something raw inside her. “We have names, you know. Histories. Lives we were taken from.”
“I know.” His voice was heavy with regret. “I know, Melissa. And I’m sorry. If I could change any of this—”
“But you can’t.” She gentled her tone, seeing the genuine pain in his face. “I know you can’t. I’m not blaming you.”
Not anymore, she added silently. She had blamed him, at first. She had lumped him together with the guards and the scientists and everyone who saw her as a means to an end rather than a person.
But that had been before the night with Robbie’s fever.
Before she’d seen him willing to risk his position—maybe his life—to protect her from a guard’s rough handling.
“I can’t arrange a meeting,” he added slowly. “Not without raising suspicions. But I have been able to do something for them. I provided them with clothing and datapads and arranged for them to have time outside.”
“Really?” She sat up straighter, hope flickering in her chest. “That’s… thank you.”
“I also let them know it was your idea.”
She stared at him, surprised. “Why?”
“Because it was.” His tail finally completed its journey, wrapping gently around her waist in that casual, affectionate gesture that had already become so familiar. “And because I thought they should know that someone is thinking of them. That they’re not alone in this.”
The simple, thoughtful kindness of his gesture made her eyes burn with unexpected tears. She blinked them back fiercely, unwilling to cry in front of him, but something in her chest felt like it was crumbling.
She’d been so alone for so long.
Not just here, in this cell, but for years before that.
Running the reproductive center back on Earth, she’d been surrounded by colleagues and patients and staff, but none of them had truly seen her.
She’d been Dr. Desai, the efficient director, the consummate professional.
No one had bothered to look past the title to the woman underneath.
And before that—
“My parents arranged a fiancé for me once,” she heard herself say. The words spilled out unbidden, startling her almost as much as they seemed to startle him. “Did I ever tell you that?”
“No.” His voice was soft, inviting her to continue.
“I was twenty-four and just finishing my residency. They were very traditional—first-generation immigrants from India, determined that I would marry a nice Indian boy from a good family and give them grandchildren.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Vijay Patel. He was handsome, successful, and came highly recommended. My mother showed me his photograph like she was selling a used car.”
His tail tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist. “What happened?”
“We had dinner. Several dinners, actually. He was perfectly pleasant—polite, educated, charming when he wanted to be.” She looked down at Robbie, smoothing a hand over his fuzzy head.
“But he never once asked me what I wanted. Never wondered about my dreams or my fears or what made me laugh. He talked about his career, his family’s expectations, and the house he planned to buy.
And whenever I tried to talk about what was important to me, he would nod and smile and then change the subject back to himself. ”
The memory still stung, even after all these years. The message that her thoughts and her ambitions simply didn’t matter to the people who were supposed to love her.
“I called it off after two months,” she continued. “My parents didn’t speak to me for almost a year. They said I was selfish and ungrateful, and that I would end up alone and it would be my own fault.”
“They were wrong.”
The fierce conviction in his voice made her look up. His black eyes were burning with anger and protectiveness. His free hand had curled into a fist.
“Your family should have honored you,” he said. “They should have seen what you are—what you’re worth. Any male who couldn’t appreciate the gift of your attention doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
The heat rose in her cheeks and her stomach fluttered again. “That’s… that’s a very dramatic response to an old dating story.”
“It’s the truth.”
And the worst part was, she believed him. She could see in every line of his body and every flicker of emotion in his eyes, that he meant exactly what he said. Vijay had never looked at her like that. No one had ever looked at her like that.
“You’re different,” she said quietly. “From what I expected. From what I assumed all of this would be like.”
His tail unwound from her waist, sliding down to rest against her hip—a question, not a demand. She didn’t pull away.
“I thought I knew what Naran wanted,” he admitted. “I thought I understood the necessity to help our people survive, whatever the cost. But then I met you, and—” He stopped, his jaw working. “You made me question everything I believed was true.”
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
“Incredibly.” His mouth curved in a small smile. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
Robbie chose that moment to let out a demanding cry, his small face scrunching up with displeasure. She laughed despite herself, shifting him against her shoulder and rubbing his back soothingly.
“Someone’s hungry.”
“I should go.” But he didn’t move, his gaze lingering on her and the baby with an expression that made her heart ache. “Let you have some peace.”
“Becsul.” She reached out before she could stop herself, her fingers brushing against the subtle texture of his forearm. He went utterly still at the contact. “Thank you. For what you did for the other women. And for me. For everything.”
“It’s not enough.”
“It’s more than anyone else has given me in a very long time.”
He covered her hand with his, those big fingers impossibly gentle. For a long moment, they stayed like that, suspended in a space that felt separate from the cell walls and the locked door and everything else that should have made this impossible.
Then Robbie wailed again, louder this time, and the moment broke.
“I’ll be back tonight,” Becsul said, heading towards the door. “If you want me to be.”
If you want me to be. Such a simple question. Such a complicated answer.
“Yes,” she said, and watched joy flicker across his alien features. “I want you to be.”
He was at the door when she spoke again, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them.
“Becsul? About the compatibility thing. Veyalor’s theory about the mate bond.”
He turned back, waiting.
“I think—” She took a breath, steadying herself. “I think he might be right.”
His eyes widened, and for an instant she saw him stripped of all his careful control—saw the hope and wonder and fierce, desperate longing that he’d been trying so hard to hide. Then the mask slid back into place.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll talk more tonight.”
The door closed behind him, and she let out a shaky breath.
What was she doing? What was she feeling?
She looked down at her son, now fussing impatiently against her shoulder, and thought about Vijay Patel. About her parents’ disappointment. About all the years she’d spent telling herself she didn’t need anyone, that she could build a life alone, and that love was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
And now here she was, in an alien prison cell, falling for her captor.
Falling. The word felt inadequate. This wasn’t falling—it was something more like drowning, like being swept away by a current too strong to fight. Every time she told herself to pull back, to protect herself, he did something that cracked her defenses wide open.
He hadn’t tried to kiss her today. He hadn’t pushed for anything physical. He’d simply sat with her, talked with her, and looked at her like she was the most valuable thing in the universe. And that, somehow, was worse. She could have resisted seduction. She didn’t know how to resist being seen.
Robbie’s cries finally penetrated her spiraling thoughts, and she shifted him to a more comfortable position, guiding him towards her breast. He latched on eagerly, his small body relaxing as he fed.
“What do you think, little one?” she whispered. “Am I making a terrible mistake?”
Robbie, predictably, had no answer. He just kept nursing, content and oblivious to his mother’s emotional turmoil.
Probably a mistake, she thought. Almost definitely a mistake.
But somehow, she found she didn’t care.