Page 12 of Adtovar (The Alliance Rescue #1)

“The dining hall will be open shortly for the evening meal,” the guard said, shifting on his feet and kicking up plumes of gray dust. “But I thought you could use the nutrition.” He glanced up, his dark gaze landing first on me before shifting and lingering on Adtovar, accompanied by a faint blush, which on his green skin amounted to his cheeks turning a rather lovely shade of pine.

“My father used to talk of you. He was a fan.”

“Thank you,” Adtovar nodded again, and the guard turned on his heel, steps echoing down the corridor.

“Interesting,” Adtovar glanced at the sustenance he held.

“Not all the guards are assholes,” I told him with a heavy sigh. Even if we managed to escape, there would be so many more who could not. “Most are... but a few are trapped, just like the rest of us.”

Adtovar dropped the guard’s gift onto the cot and absentmindedly raised his hands to his horns, scratching at the pearlescent appendages as if unaware of his own actions. Perhaps the dry desert air bothered him. It certainly made my skin ashy as hell.

The minty cream nestled in my medical kit wasn’t particularly useful for many ailments, but it offered soothing relief for skin irritation, a type of alien aloe.

I hopped to my feet, small stones scuffling beneath my feet as I went to rummage through the depths of the tattered bag hanging precariously by the door.

My fingers closed around the cool metal tin, the surface slightly rusty and dented from years of use.

“I noticed you scratching your horns a lot. This might help.” I turned back to Adtovar, scooping out a generous blob of the salve, the cool, smooth texture coating my fingers as I reached for his horns.

Adtovar jerked abruptly, flinching slightly, as though expecting that even the slightest contact might unleash a wave of horrendous pain.

Of course, he’d be resistant, I realized, since healing for him was mostly technological. “It’s just a mint salve. It’s pretty good on skin irritations.”

Adtovar scrutinized my face intently, his gaze lingering as if searching for some hidden agenda.

His eyes shifted, catching sight of the pale green dollop of cream perched on my index finger.

He inhaled deeply, a breath that seemed to gather his thoughts, and with a subtle nod, gestured for me to proceed.

Touching his curved horns was not what I expected.

They were cool beneath my fingertips, smooth and sleek like the polished surface of a pearl.

The horns gleamed in the dim light, displaying a mesmerizing array of variegated shades—white, cream, and just a hint of gold.

I carefully applied the cream at their base, where the horns emerged seamlessly from his pale skin.

Adtovar exhaled deeply, his breath carrying a sigh of relief and contentment.

“Does this feel better?” I knew it did. The way he rubbed his head against my hand was like a cat getting its ears petted. Only the purr was missing.

“You have no idea,” he moaned. I felt a shudder, like the faint tremor of an earthquake traveling through him.

I carefully massaged the cream into his skin, my touch lingering even after every drop had been absorbed.

I knew I should stop touching him, but my hands wouldn’t obey, captivated by the warmth and firmness beneath my fingertips.

The sensation was intoxicating, and I found myself unable to pull away.

“I’m really sorry you have to fight again.

If I ever meet your daughter—I’ll make sure she knows that you did it to save me.

.. save us,” I murmured softly as my fingertips ventured cautiously around the base of his horns.

The sensation was akin to stroking a tiger; though his exterior seemed tranquil, I could sense an intense power thrumming just beneath the surface.

“Well, isn’t this sweet?”

A large guard loomed in my doorway, his hands clutching a bundle of dark blue fabric, the rich hue unmistakable as a gladiator tunic.

I bristled at the thought of Adtovar being forced to don the garment like a slave.

Yet, I couldn’t help but imagine how the deep, vibrant blue would accentuate his features.

Adtovar stood slowly, like a big cat stretching after a nap. His blue eyes focused into pale blue glare that dared the guard to say anything further. “Yes?”

The guard let out a disdainful snort, a sound full of contempt and derision, but there was no mistaking the flicker of fear in his eyes.

Seeing him up close made me realize I knew this guard. Although usually only gladiators were allowed near the females, this guard once found Emmiait alone. The encounter had been brutal, leaving her with a black eye and swollen girly parts that lingered for weeks.

“What do you want?” I spat at him.

His beady eyes flashed, something I took as a victory.

“I wondered why the great champion Adtovar wanted a cell near the females. I guess now I know.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” I shot back, my words accented by the low warning rumble coming from deep in Adtovar’s chest. I only wanted to help remedy his itching.

But the gentle way my fingers moved over the texture of his horns, the way Adtovar seemed to melt at my touch, and the quiet closeness of our interaction—it had felt intimate.

Something I’d be damned wanting the guard to know, or anybody else for that matter.

I took a step forward, raising my hand and letting my index finger circle in the air. Something I had done to Bozzo dozens of times. “Get out of here. Don’t make me hex you.”

The guard’s demeanor shifted noticeably, his eyes widening with a mix of disbelief and fear.

His hands trembled slightly, and he took an unconscious step back, as if putting more distance between us could somehow stop the power I claimed to possess.

He turned on his heel so abruptly and dashed from my sight that I barked out a laugh.

“That was impressive,” Adtovar chuckled, moving to the doorway to ensure the guard’s departure.

“A girl does what she can.” I flopped onto the cot, recognizing that it now held Adtovar’s richly masculine scent. I’d either sleep like a baby tonight or not sleep at all, probably the latter.

Adtovar crossed his muscular arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame, his pale blue eyes regarding me curiously. “I don’t trust Bozzo. If you can wield magic, we might need it to help us escape.”

I gazed at him. Looked beyond his exquisitely handsome face and glimpsed the male within—the male who willingly broke a promise to his daughter to rescue me. He might be an alien with horns, but at his core, Adtovar was a good man. I couldn’t lie to him, not anymore.

“Honestly,” I lowered my gaze, feeling sheepish as hell. “Any hexing and smiting I do isn’t because of any magic.”

“But you made things explode.” Adtovar didn’t seem stunned by my confession, only curious and a little amused. “Bozzo told me you nearly blew him up once.”

“I did. But not because I’m a voodoo priestess,” I admitted, the guilt I felt overtaken by pride. “It’s because I’m an engineer.”