Page 15 of Alokar (The Alliance Rescue #2)

“Huntoon Point. Most hikers access it via the Artist Ridge trail.” The trail had earned its designation as Artist Ridge for good reason, as the panoramic vistas from that elevation were one of the most painted landscapes in the entire state.

“How can you possibly say I don’t need you?

” Ewok asked softly, his intense brown gaze locking onto mine with such focused attention that my stomach performed an involuntary flutter.

“I might possess exceptional olfactory capabilities, but nobody knows this terrain like you do. Knowledge like yours is invaluable to any hunter.”

I huffed dismissively, rolling my eyes in a gesture of stubborn resistance. But deep down, I had to admit that his words eased some of the sting, making warmth bloom in my chest despite my best efforts to remain detached.

“Our quest remains unchanged,” he said, turning his gaze back toward the dance of flames in our campfire. “We both share the desire to ensure that Yaard is dead.”

“True,” I admitted, unable to argue with that simple, undeniable fact.

He stayed focused on the fire, his powerful shoulders hunched slightly as he gave the rabbit stew a careful stir with a long wooden spoon.

The firelight danced across his silver-streaked fur, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow that emphasized the impressive musculature beneath.

“I propose we continue on as we have been. Find Yaard, make sure he’s dead, then I can return to my world and you to yours. ”

The casual way he spoke of leaving—as if it were just another item on a to-do list—sent an unexpected pang through my chest. Why did the idea of Ewok departing Earth make my stomach clench with something that felt dangerously close to loss?

I couldn’t think about that now. Not yet.

Not when everything between us had already shifted so dramatically.

“Only my appearance has changed, Hannah,” Ewok reminded me when the silence stretched on, his deep voice carrying that same gentle reassurance that always made me feel safe.

His honey-brown eyes found mine across the flames, earnest and unwavering.

“I will protect and care for you as I always have.”

I knew that with bone-deep certainty. And despite the recent revelations and the way my entire understanding of reality had been turned upside down, I completely trusted his promise.

The essence of who he was—the man who had shown me nothing but kindness and consideration—remained unchanged beneath the fur and alien features.

I took a deep, steadying breath, waiting for my gut to scream at me to rebel against the insanity.

To demand I flee back to civilization and pretend none of this ever happened.

But all I felt was a quiet peacefulness settling over me, the unmistakable feeling of choosing the right path, even if it led into the unknown.

“Okay.”

Ewok’s face transformed with relief, a brilliant grin spreading across his features, revealing sharp canine teeth.

Even covered in thick, chocolate-and-silver fur, even with his more pronounced brow and broader jaw, he was still devastatingly handsome in a way that made my pulse quicken traitorously.

“But no more kissing,” I warned, pointing a stern finger at him—more for my own benefit than his, because the memory of his lips on mine still made my knees weak.

“I understand,” Ewok said, though his lips curved in what might have been amusement, as if he could see right through my flustered attempt at establishing boundaries. “But I need to tell you I enjoyed the kissing very much. More than I expected I would.”

“You make it sound like it was your first kiss,” I teased, mainly to keep from dwelling on how much I, too, had enjoyed our brief moment of intimacy—how it had felt like coming home and falling off a cliff all at once.

“It was.” He said it with no trace of embarrassment or self-consciousness; his attention focused on carefully removing the bubbling rabbit stew from the fire.

I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “Seriously?”

The implication hit me like a freight train, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out.

“What are you, a virgin?” I’d meant it as a joke.

When he wore his human disguise, he was so gorgeous I would have expected him to have a woman in every port, so to speak.

Who knew what aliens thought about sex? I couldn’t imagine any species being as uptight as humans about physical intimacy.

“Yes.”

A small, shocked sound escaped my lips, drawing Ewok’s amused gaze back to my face. The firelight caught the golden flecks in his eyes, making them glow with inner warmth.

“Up until a week ago, I was considered a youngling,” he told me, and I got the distinct impression Ewok was thoroughly entertained by my obvious shock.

A youngling? A child? Just a week ago? My mind reeled. “How? You’re freaking huge! How big do Kerzak get?”

“I am fully grown,” Ewok said matter-of-factly, tossing the waterlogged leaves from my tin cup into the fire where they hissed and sent up a small puff of aromatic steam. He filled the cup with stew, the rich aroma making my stomach growl appreciatively. “My kind experience an accelerated puberty.”

“How accelerated?” I asked, fascinated by the glimpse into alien biology.

“Most of the physical changes took place over just a few days.”

“Sounds brutal.” Memories of my own adolescent nightmare flashed through my mind—the acne that seemed to last forever, the raging hormones that made me feel like a stranger in my own skin, the awkward growth spurts that left me constantly bumping into things.

If only it had taken a few days instead of the seemingly endless years of misery.

“It was.” Ewok winced, a shadow of remembered pain crossing his features, which said far more than any detailed explanation. “Thankfully, my brother George helped me through the worst of it.”

The casual mention of his family made me realize how little I actually knew about his life, his world, his people. It made me wonder about so many things—the vast differences between humans and aliens, the complexities of a society I couldn’t even imagine.

“Is what you told me about your adopted parents... your baby sister... is it true?”

“Yes,” he said softly, his voice taking on a tender quality that made something warm unfurl in my chest. A flicker of something—vulnerability, perhaps, or deep affection—crossed his face. “Is it so unbelievable that members of different species would find love together?”

“I guess not,” I admitted, contemplating his words. “We don’t have different species here on Earth, but people from different races, different cultures, and different backgrounds fall in love all the time.”

I met his gaze across the flames, those teddy bear eyes exactly the same as they’d always been—warm, intelligent, kind.

The feeling of safety and acceptance that had drawn me to him from the beginning remained unchanged, as constant as the North Star.

I could see the love he held for his family shining in his expression, genuine and deep, and it softened something inside me.

I was still angry that he’d deceived me, still reeling from his revelation, but I couldn’t help the way my heart responded to the glimpses of his true nature.

He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch me—his clawed fingers twitching slightly where they rested against his powerful thighs—but thought better of it, his hand curling into a loose fist instead. “I will let no harm come to you, Hannah. I give you my vow as a warrior.”

The weight of his promise settled over me, carrying the same unwavering certainty I’d always heard in his voice.

“I know.” I believed him utterly, and now the shock had receded from my senses, I realized my feelings for him hadn’t dimmed as much as I’d expected.

If anything, seeing him stripped of all pretenses—vulnerable and honest in his true form—only made the inexplicable pull I felt toward him stronger.

I still wasn’t going to kiss him again, though.

“Where did you say Yaard might have died?” I changed the subject, my voice slightly hoarse as I cleared my throat, discussing possible dead bodies much more preferable than examining the confusing tangle of emotions churning in my chest.

“A place called Skadulgwas Peak. There was a cave-in at a new archeological site.” His deep voice carried a note of grim satisfaction, as if the very thought of our enemy trapped beneath tons of rock brought him some measure of peace.

“I read about that when I was back in Seattle tending to my dad’s estate. Some people believe Bigfoot attacked the dig’s camp.” The irony wasn’t lost on me. All those witness accounts dismissed as hysteria or hoaxes suddenly took on a chilling new significance.

Ewok looked at me, one thick brow arching upward in a gesture so familiar it made my heart skip. Well, duh.

I blew gently on my cup of stew, steam rising in delicate spirals that caught the firelight, and accepted the carved wooden spoon he offered.

Like everything else he prepared, it was delicious.

The first tentative taste revealed layers of rich, complex flavors that made my stomach growl appreciatively despite the emotional turmoil of the evening.

We ate in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds being the soft crackling of burning wood and the distant call of a night owl echoing through the trees. The silence between us remained comfortable and peaceful, no matter how dramatically his appearance had changed.

“How far is Skadulgwas Peak?” Ewok asked as he dished himself out more stew.

I glanced up at the stars scattered across the velvet sky, reading the celestial map that had guided me through these mountains since childhood. “From where we’re standing, about sixty miles northwest.”

“A few days’ travel then.” He paused, and when he spoke again, I would have sworn his deep voice held a tinge of nervousness, an almost boyish uncertainty that seemed at odds with his physical strength. “Will you come with me?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t hesitate, the answer emerging from some deep, instinctive place that had already decided before my rational mind could interfere. “I can’t have you getting lost and scaring the tourists to death. Plus, I want to see that the bastard is dead with my own eyes.”

Ewok’s gaze met mine across the flickering flames.

Those warm honey-brown depths filled with what might have been profound relief.

He smiled, the expression transforming his alien features with such genuine warmth that my breath caught in my throat.

His smile faltered, as if he thought such a gesture might be inappropriate given recent circumstances, and his large hand slipped into his pocket, where I now knew his disguise device lay hidden.

“You can leave it off.”

A flash of genuine shock crossed his face, his eyes widening slightly. Even covered in thick fur, even with his more pronounced brow ridge and broader jaw, his face remained remarkably readable. “My true form does not make you uncomfortable?”

“I’m not going to lie,” I snorted, setting down my empty cup and meeting his gaze. “It shocked the hell out of me when I first saw the real you.” I smiled at him, the expression feeling natural and real despite everything. “But no, it doesn’t bother me.”

Ewok returned my smile, but the expression that spread across his features carried no actual amusement—only a deep, bone-weary regret that seemed to settle into the very lines of his face.

His eyes held shadows of remorse that made something twist painfully in my chest. “I am sorry I lied to you, Hannah. I didn’t think you would be receptive to me in my true form. ”

Ewok delivered his apology with such raw, heartfelt sincerity that it brought a lump to my throat.

The firelight shadowed his dark fur as he spoke, highlighting the vulnerable set of his broad shoulders, the way his clawed fingers curled slightly against his thighs as if he were bracing himself for my rejection.

“Well, I did come out shooting first and asking questions later ,” I admitted, attempting to inject some lightness into the moment, hoping to ease the growing ache that had taken root in my heart at seeing him distressed.

“True,” he chuckled, and this time amusement flickered to life in his gaze, the sound rumbling from his chest in the way that had always made warmth bloom inside me. The tension in his frame seemed to ease slightly, his shoulders relaxing by degrees.

“But I am truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me,” he said, his deep voice dropping to barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid that speaking the words too loudly might shatter whatever fragile understanding we’d recovered.

“Maybe,” I said, though deep down, I knew I already had.