Page 27 of Alien Jeopardy (Mated & Afraid #1)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Ka-Rexsh

My entire worldview has shifted.

I do not think I will ever be the same.

Now that I know what it can be like to be with a mate, I won’t want anything else.

I don’t know how I will let this human female go. But first, we have to get ourselves out of this nightmare in one piece.

Heaving a sigh, I glance at where my hyrulis has finished cleaning herself, dressing quickly.

“At least I have shoes now,” she says, quirking a smile at me.

It’s the first thing she’s said since we did the life-changing mating, and it strikes me to the heart—not because it’s some ground-breaking emotional confession, but for its companionable simplicity.

The kind of conversation that’s easy and normal, in spite of the dire straits we now find ourselves in; the kind of remark one might make with their partner of years on end.

“That was fun, by the way.” She holds her hand up, palm out to me, and I stare at it.

She expects something of me now, I’m sure of it, but I do not know this human hand tradition.

I hold my hand up like she is, level with my face, and watch her expectantly.

A smile brightens her face, and it’s more beautiful than any sunrise on any world. Laughing, she presses her palm quickly to mine, her smile broader than ever.

“That’s a high five,” she explains, then turns to the bed we’ve only just left.

A high five. I file away this human post-coital ritual for later, pleased beyond belief that she’s chosen to share it with me, even though she still does not want to be my mate.

This high five is a good sign.

Maybe I can coax enough high fives from her that she will want to high five with me and only me forever.

A sheet hangs half off the bed, the blanket at the corner, and Ellison tugs at the thinner of the two, popping it off completely.

“Do the same with the blanket,” she tells me, pointing at the puddled fabric. “We can take shit with us. Make like… a bag.” She acts out slinging the sheet over her shoulder, and my eyes widen in understanding.

“This is very clever.”

“It might be, it might not be,” she says cryptically. “I would rather have things in case we need them than regret not grabbing anything.”

“The station said we would have supplies.”

“That we have to fight for.” She makes a face. “I’ve never fought anyone.”

“I will fight for us both,” I tell her gravely. “It would be my honor.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had anyone want to fight for me.” Another bright smile, though this one is tainted by the slight trembling of her lower lip.

My mate is scared, and yet, she puts on a brave face.

I am scared, too, but her bravery makes mine grow.

“We should name it. The AI, I mean. It’s weird to call it the station. It’s not a station anymore, right? It’s the AI. There’s no one living here.”

“It is dangerous to give things like that a name.”

“Still. We’re already in danger. Might as well make it easy to talk about.”

I cock my head at her, tying the blanket corners into knots that will allow me to hook it over a shoulder. It will be in the way if I need to fly, but if it comes to that, then it will likely be too late to worry about the blanket, anyway.

“What do you think about the name Ken?” She narrows her eyes at nothing, still working on making neat knots of her own sheet. “Like the doll. Ken, no privates.”

A laugh bursts out of her, quieted again just as quickly.

“The name means nothing to me,” I tell her.

“Right. That’s okay. We’re calling it Ken.”

“Ken No Privates,” I dutifully repeat.

“He’s just Ken,” she says, choking on the words.

I pat her back. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Absolutely. Right. So what do you think we should try to take with us from here? Do you think we should look for the crew? Billie and Ayro? Do you think Ken is making them fight, too? This is so weird. Fuck!”

Brightness springs to her eyes, and pink suffuses her cheeks and a band across her nose. “I hate crying,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, fanning her eyes with the other. “Distract me. Say something mean to me, make me mad.”

“I would never.” Outrage makes me nearly rip the blanket in two. “I would never say something mean to you.”

“Not even if you were mad at me?” she asks, sniffling. A single tear tracks down her cheek.

“Not even then.”

“I need a hug,” she says, and before I can ask her to translate the word, she’s flung herself into me, wrapping her arms around my waist, her wet face against my chest.

Oh. An embrace.

Slowly, I wrap my arms around her, too, enjoying the creature comfort of her touch.

Enjoying it, and loving that she’s come to me for comfort.

Perhaps I stand a chance at being her chosen high five partner for life, after all.