Chapter 10
Harper
I stared at Xabat, taking in every detail.
He was tall—taller than before, or maybe it just seemed that way.
His skin was a pale sage green, almost shimmering in the dim light.
His muscles were even more pronounced, the broad shoulders and chest making him look like he could tear through a wall without breaking a sweat.
His hair had changed too, thicker and coiled into what looked like dreadlocks that fell past his shoulders.
His face was still humanoid enough that I could recognize him—those same deep purple eyes, the strong jawline—but his features were broader now.
His nose was wider, his cheekbones more pronounced.
Yet somehow, what I'd found so handsome before was still there, just..
. more. His scent was like the sea and sand and spice, and everything I loved, as if made just for me.
I should have been terrified. Any sane person would be.
But looking at the massive green alien who'd just saved my life, I felt.
.. calm. Maybe it was shock? Or maybe it was because, despite everything, he still felt like the same person who'd held me so gently, who took such good care of me, who'd kissed me like I was precious.
Maybe it was the fact that he looked like romantasy's depiction of an orc.
April might get on my nerves sometimes, but she was the one person I trusted to hide my Kindle if I died.
I'd always been a voracious reader... romances being my go-to.
But after Seth died, I couldn't bring myself to read a regular romance where the man and woman lived happily ever after.
Instead, I'd started reading what some called monster romance.
Human females falling for creatures that didn't truly exist, so the happily ever after didn't hurt as badly.
Minotaurs and Orcs were my monsters of choice.
April was partial to Alien and Naga romance, but personally, I couldn't get over the whole snake thing.
With the flutter of thoughts racing through my head, I recalled an article she'd read online that said NASA warned that aliens might not be fuckable, and despite everything, I nearly laughed.
Little did they know. Xabat was a great kisser.
Of course, I suspected NASA wasn't considering kissing in the equation of first contact.
Seth had been a believer in extraterrestrial life.
He'd come home from his shifts some nights with stories that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
He'd talk about lights in the sky that moved in impossible patterns, about radio signatures that vanished without explanation, about classified briefings that left him shaken.
He'd been convinced that humanity wasn't alone, that somewhere out there in the vast darkness of space, other beings existed.
I'd always listened to him with a mixture of affection and skepticism, never committing one way or another to the possibility.
But right now, standing in the middle of a hurricane, I stared at undeniable proof.
Seven feet of green-skinned, purple-eyed confirmation that Seth had been right all along.
"Please don't be afraid," Xabat pleaded, his deep voice cracking slightly with an emotion that sounded almost like desperation. The vulnerability of those four words made something in my chest tighten.
I looked at his eyes—those extraordinary purple eyes that seemed to shift between shades of amethyst and lavender depending on how the light caught them—seeing the raw worry etched there.
"I'm not afraid of you," I said softly but firmly, needing him to understand, wanting him to feel the sincerity in every syllable. "It's just a shock. A lot to process all at once."
He shifted his weight uncomfortably, and I caught the tension coiling through his massive shoulders.
His hands flexed at his sides, those long fingers curling and uncurling in a nervous gesture that was achingly familiar despite everything that had changed.
"I am here to protect you. That is all. I would never. ..."
"I know," I interrupted, my voice barely above a whisper. "You've been nothing but kind to me, Xabat. Caring and patient and protective. That doesn't change just because you're...." I gestured at him, at all of him. "Green."
A flicker of something—relief, maybe, or hope—crossed his face, softening the furrow between his brows. The wind howled outside like a living thing, rattling the windows with violent gusts, but between us there lay an odd stillness.
"Your brother," I said, the thought suddenly occurring to me as pieces clicked together in my mind. "Xytol. Is he...?"
"Yes." Xabat nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. "He is Kaelaks, as I am, born under the same twin suns of our homeworld."
Kaelaks. The word felt strange in my mind, foreign and exotic, and yet somehow fitting. I tried to picture Xytol, another seven-foot wall of green muscle and coiled strength.
"Are there..." I hesitated, suddenly feeling small and provincial, like a second grader asking about the world beyond her own small scope. "Are there many species out there? In the stars?"
Xabat's expression softened considerably, the worry melting away to be replaced by something almost wistful.
"More than you can count," he said quietly.
"Thousands upon thousands, each unique in their own way.
The universe is vast, Harper. And it is full of life—civilizations, cultures, and wonders you cannot even begin to imagine. "
Seth would have been happy to hear those words, would have peppered Xabat with a million excited questions. The thought sent a pang through my chest, bittersweet and sharp, like pressing on a bruise that hadn't quite healed.
Xabat stood abruptly, his movements careful and controlled, wincing slightly as he rolled his injured shoulder. "I will go to the other end of the building so you will feel safe."
I rolled my eyes, reaching out to lay my hand on his bicep, stopping him mid-turn.
"Don't be ridiculous. You're injured. Sit.
Let me take care of you." The skin under my fingers felt no different from all the other times I'd touched him—warm, alive, real.
Though this time, now that I was looking, really looking, I could see the millions of tiny scales that made up his flesh, each one catching the light like microscopic emeralds, creating an iridescent shimmer across his skin.
Those purple eyes studied me for a long moment, searching my face for any sign of fear. Finding none, he agreed with a jerky nod of his head and lowered himself once again onto the pile of beach towels.
I settled on my knees, positioning myself so I could reach his injured shoulder.
Even seated, Xabat was a head taller than me.
The crazy thing was, I wasn't afraid. Not even a little.
Not of him, not of what he was, not of the impossible reality he represented.
I'd felt safe with him from the very beginning, from the moment he showed up at the beach house, dripping with rain.
Nothing had changed. He was still Xabat.
Still the guy who had fought not once, but twice to protect me.
Logically, his being a Kaelaks was no different from someone being Swahili, Russian, or Japanese. Different, yes. Unfamiliar. But still a thinking, feeling being with hopes and fears and dreams. Still him.
The man who'd protected me and taken care of me, who'd risked his life to keep me safe from dangers I hadn't even known existed.
Green skin didn't change any of that.
"Your... um... shirt needs to come off," I said, gesturing awkwardly at the blood-stained fabric clinging to his torso.
Heat rose in my cheeks, a flush spreading across my face that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the sudden awareness of just how close we were, how intimate the moment felt.
Xabat huffed out a breath that might have been amusement, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Then he reached down, grasped the hem of his shirt with both hands, and pulled it over his head in one smooth, fluid motion that made every muscle in his torso ripple and flex.
Oh!
Oh my!
My mouth went completely dry, my tongue suddenly feeling thick and useless as I stared at his bare chest, unable to look away.
The sage skin did absolutely nothing to diminish the devastating effect of all those muscles.
If anything, the exotic coloring made them more defined, more striking, throwing every ridge and valley of his abs into sharp relief, highlighting the thick, corded muscles of his shoulders, emphasizing the powerful, broad expanse of pecs that rose and fell with each breath.
He resembled an ancient warrior carved from living jade, all hard planes and raw, coiled strength.
I swallowed hard, my throat clicking audibly in the quiet room as I tried desperately to remember how to breathe. This was absolutely not the time to be ogling him like some hormone-addled teenager. He was hurt, bleeding, and in pain. I needed to focus on that, needed to be competent and helpful.
But God help me, he was gorgeous in a way that defied description, that made me want to memorize every line and curve of him.
My fingers itched to touch him, to trace the defined lines of those muscles with my fingertips, to map the topography of his body with my palms, and feel the warmth and solidity of him under my hands.
Heat flooded through me in a dizzying rush, pooling low in my belly, spreading through my limbs like liquid fire.
A feeling that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with pure, undeniable want.
Get it together, Harper. Focus.