Page 24 of Alokar (The Alliance Rescue #2)

I didn’t tell him the imaginings in my head already resembled some slasher gore horror movie, complete with the stench of death and the sight of bones picked clean.

“Then, I’ll wait for you at the truck.” I stepped closer, letting my hand rest on his thick forearm, the soft fur tickling my palm. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

Ewok sighed—a sound that rumbled deep in his chest—and opened his arms, settling me against the solid warmth of his body.

I smiled in response, laying my cheek against where his heart beat steady and strong beneath layers of muscle and fur, loving the enveloping crush of his embrace, breathing in his wild, earthy scent.

We stood there in the faint glow of the rising moon streaming through the window, just holding each other, until the sharp shriek of the kettle made me reluctantly pull from his arms.

We worked together in the companionable silence that had become such a precious comfort—moving around each other with practiced ease as I ladled the thick, savory stew into our mismatched plates while Ewok prepared steaming mugs of tea.

The rich aroma of herbs and meat mingled with the earthy scent of the brewing tea, creating a cozy oasis in the small kitchen.

I rummaged through the cabinet until my fingers found a sleeve of saltine crackers, the packaging crinkled and worn.

They were a little stale when I tested one between my teeth, but still edible enough to serve their purpose.

We settled at the rickety wooden table, its surface scarred by years of use and memories.

Ewok’s features twisted into a skeptical frown as he gazed down at his bowl of canned stew, doubt reflected in those teddy bear eyes.

But as he drew in the steaming, herb-laden scent that rose from the surface, his expression gradually softened.

When he took his first careful bite, his eyes widened slightly in pleasant surprise, and I caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“How long do you think it will take you to find Yaard, if he’s dead?” I asked, methodically crumbling the crackers between my fingers and watching the pale fragments disappear into the dark broth—they tasted less stale that way.

“Not long,” Ewok paused mid-motion, the spoon hovering inches from his mouth as he tapped his broad nose with his other hand.

“Then what?” The question hung in the air between us.

“Then I take proof of Yaard’s demise to the Alliance.” His voice carried the weight of duty and finality.

Translation—he would leave. The realization hit me like a physical blow, making my stomach clench and the stew within it turn rocky and sour.

“You could hang around for a while,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice light and casual despite the desperate hope clawing at my chest. “Or maybe come back after you deliver the proof.” I hated the way the cuddwisg device made him itch, but if he stayed at the cabin or deep in the mountains, there would be little need for it.

Ewok sighed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to emanate from his very soul. His large, warm hand captured my restless fingers that had been drumming an anxious rhythm against the tabletop. “I would like nothing more, but I cannot.”

“Just for a little while,” I said with an exaggerated pout, though beneath the teasing facade, my heart was genuinely begging, pleading with whatever godly forces that might be listening.

Ewok’s fingers tightened around mine, his grip both gentle and desperate, while a deeply troubled expression settled across his face. His honey-brown eyes, usually so confident and sure, now swirled with worry and something that looked like regret. “There is something I haven’t told you.”

My stomach performed a sickening flip, making the stew settle like lead in my belly. “Something other than being an alien?” I asked. At least his news wouldn’t be about some long-forgotten wife—we’d already covered that.

“Yes.” His smile was barely there, a ghost of warmth that didn’t reach his eyes. He drew in a deep, steadying breath, his powerful shoulders straightening as if preparing to bear a great weight, his gaze locking with mine. “I am king to my people.”

“Huh?” I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “A king? Like actual royalty?”

“Yes.” There was no joy, no pride in his answer—only the heavy burden of unwanted responsibility.

“My birth parents were King Ardika Vey and Queen Paluma Oy. Yaard murdered them in an attempt to seize the throne. His plan was to keep my older sister in exile until she came of age to mate, then claim the throne through her.”

“And he threw you on that mining moon thinking it would kill you,” I said, my voice shaking with renewed fury.

Ewok nodded. “My sister rules as regent on Kerzak until I come of age and must take the throne,” he continued, his voice heavy.

“How old do you have to be to take the throne?” I asked, though fully grown, he’d only been that way a short while.

“I must claim the throne within fifty years of becoming an adult,” Ewok said, his frown deepening as if the timeline itself was a burden.

“So, you’ve been an adult for about two weeks? You’ve got some time.” Fifty years was a long time by Earth’s standards.

“Some,” he muttered darkly, though he didn’t seem the least bit heartened by the prospect.

“It doesn’t sound like you want to be king,” I said, letting my fingers play with his. I loved the stark contrast between the calloused skin of his palm and the impossibly soft, downy fur that covered the back of his hand.

“I would much rather be a warrior like my adopted father and stay aboard the Bardaga helping to rescue those abducted and sold into slavery.” His voice carried a wistful longing that made my chest tighten.

“Then why don’t you?” I asked. It was definitely a worthy cause. “Surely your sister would like to be queen?”

A faint smile played along Ewok’s lips as he thought of his sibling, his eyes growing distant and fond.

“Vienda is a born leader, but she cannot rule. The Kerzak have laws that prevent females from ruling as Queen. Even now, acting as regent, she is supposed to run every decision by me.” He chuckled, a rich rumbling sound. “She doesn’t.”

“Women can’t rule?” I rolled my eyes, incredulous. “That sounds kind of antiquated for a species capable of space travel.”

“Perhaps.” His sigh was heavy with agreement, his massive shoulders sagging slightly. “But it is the law of my kind. To shirk my duty would be to open the throne to someone like Yaard, and that I cannot do.”

I couldn’t blame him for that—the mere idea of someone like Yaard being king made my skin crawl. But I wasn’t willing to give up that easily, especially when it came to Ewok. “So, when you become king, can’t you change the law so your sister can be queen?”

Ewok’s eyes flashed wide for a moment, pupils dilating with surprise as a flicker of hopeful contemplation crossed his handsome features.

“I had not thought of that.” The ceramic dishes clattered slightly as he pushed them away.

He obviously liked the stew—his plate was nearly licked clean, not a drop of the broth remaining.

“I don’t even know if it would be possible.

” Then his excitement faded like a dying ember, his expression growing somber once more.

“But I would still have to take the throne, at least for a while. I would still have to leave.”

Ewok seemed to settle into his destiny with resigned acceptance, and my heart felt like it had completely cracked in two, each jagged piece cutting deeper than the last. I forced a smile onto my face, but stood quickly, grabbing my half-eaten bowl of stew and ceramic mug with trembling hands and carrying them to the sink before turning toward the bathroom.

I needed a moment to gather myself before I completely fell apart.

“I think I’ll take a shower,” I announced, my voice barely steady.

“Okay.” Ewok watched me with those perceptive amber eyes, concern flickering across his features, but he made no move to rise.

I sequestered myself in the cramped bathroom, turning on the water as hot as I could stand it until steam fogged the mirror.

While there was a certain primal satisfaction to bathing in nature under waterfalls and in mountain streams, nothing beat the comfort of hot water sluicing down my skin in steady, scalding rivulets.

Plus, the thunderous sound of the shower spray against the tile walls drowned out the sound of my sobbing.

I didn’t want Ewok to leave. I loved him.

Yep, there, I said it. I loved an alien Bigfoot—which no doubt had every dead Bigfoot hunter rolling over in their graves. I didn’t care. Besides my dad, Ewok was the most wonderful man—male I’d ever known.

I stayed in the shower for a long while, crying over the idea of losing Ewok, then scrubbing my flushed skin until it was pink and raw, and washing my hair with methodical, almost meditative motions.

Normally, a good hot shower made me feel like I could take on the world.

Now I just felt hollow and sad, like someone had scooped out my insides with a rusty spoon.

I wondered if they had showers in space, or if they used some science fiction-type cleanser that took care of things with sterilized air puffs or sonic waves.

It might be fun to find out, which gave me an idea.

I hopped out of the shower, toweling off quickly and donning my faded, wonderfully comfortable flannel plaid robe.

Ewok knelt by the stone fireplace, the burgeoning flames casting dancing shadows across his angular features as he methodically jabbed at the smoldering logs with an iron poker.

Upon hearing me enter, he rose slowly, his towering frame unfolding as his gaze swept over my figure in a way that made every nerve ending spark with awareness.