Page 5 of Her Alien Soldier (Asterion Station #1)

M aggie sat on the window seat in her quarters, still comfortably dressed in her soft pajamas, sipping tea from one of the antique porcelain cups she’d brought with her from Earth, a paper copy of Tolkein’s “The Two Towers” in her lap.

She couldn’t turn the pages fast enough.

She’d torn through “Fellowship of the Ring” in a couple of days.

She took a break from reading to take a sip of her tea and look out the window.

The vastness of space greeted her. The stars shone, and every once in a while a ship would streak past, arriving or departing from Asterion Station.

She’d heard others from Earth say that it made them feel lonely, to look out at all of that emptiness.

She never felt that way. It wasn’t empty.

It was beautiful. On Earth it was easy to feel like the only people in existence, but living here, it was very clear that humans were not alone. It made her happy.

Of course, thinking of other races made her think of Xarek.

It didn’t take much to bring the big, serious, grumpy, powerful Altarian to mind lately.

He was almost always there. And she was trying very hard to get him not to be.

This was… different. She’d had her share of flings with good looking males who’d come through.

A few hours or a night of fun, and then a fond farewell when they left.

He… was different. She had a sneaking suspicion that when he left, she’d miss him.

She’d remember his name, the way he smelled, the sight of those almost-smiles when she amused him.

Missing someone, that empty, needy, lost feeling… that was the worst.

She was just lifting her cup to her lips when the alert toned that someone was outside her quarters. She set her cup down and got up, frowning a little. Maintenance was early. They were supposed to be there later to fix one of the lights in her sleeping area.

She pressed the button to open the doors and nearly groaned. Xarek was there, broad form filling the doorway, almost as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts.

He was about to speak when he almost seemed to freeze, his gaze darting hungrily to her body before he forced it back up to her eyes.

All it took was that one hungry glance. She could feel her nipples harden beneath the pink silk top.

This was her favorite pajama set. Pink, long sleeved, comfortable top, loose flowy pants.

Not sexy in the least, but he’d looked at her, for a moment at least, like she’d answered the door naked.

“Xarek? Is everything all right?” she asked, moving aside and gesturing for him to come inside, even though every instinct screamed at her to keep him out in the corridor.

He hesitated, then walked through the doorway, the doors whooshing shut behind him, and her quarters felt even smaller than usual.

“Maggie. I am sorry to bother you on your day off. I should have just used my communicator to speak with you, but… things can be monitored and I–”

“It’s all right. Would you like to sit down?”

He nodded and she led him back to the window seat, moving her book to the low table in front of the seat so he could sit beside her. He waited until she was seated, then sat down, looking around.

She followed his gaze. She’d made this place her own over her years on Asterion Station.

She had a weakness for auction portals where she could get antique and vintage things from Earth, along with interesting items from other planets.

Her quarters had the same bright white walls as most of the rest of the station, but she’d laid soft, cozy rugs on the floor, and in addition to the window seat there was a cozy upholstered chair with a stained glass standing lamp beside it.

Her reading nook, she liked to call it. Her bed, which was opposite the sitting area, was heaped with cozy blankets and a few soft pillows.

She’d arranged art in wood frames on some of the display ledges built into the walls, and her ever-growing collection of books filled the built-in shelving nooks near the window seat.

“This place feels like you,” he said after a moment.

“And what does that feel like?” she asked curiously.

She got one of those tiny, almost-smiles as he continued to look around.

“Warm. Inviting. Honest,” he said quietly, and she gave a small shake of her head.

“That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my quarters. Most Earthlings don’t understand my love of these old things,” she said, nodding toward the display ledges.

“They do not need to understand. They seem to fit you. At least what I know of you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, and he nodded.

He seemed to be about to say something, then clamped his mouth shut.

“What is it?” she gently prodded him.

“That Bellarian band. Do you know much about them?” he asked after a moment.

She raised her eyebrows.

“No. They play here pretty regularly, but other than small talk when they have a question about something or are putting their orders in for the night, I haven’t talked to them much. Why?”

He seemed hesitant, and she gave him time. She folded her legs beneath her and glanced at the teacup on the table. “Would you like something to drink? Tea? Water?” she asked.

She watched as his gaze went to the teacup as well. “Is this tea from your home planet?”

“It is. Chamomile. It’s said to be soothing and I know it’s usually had that effect on me.”

He nodded. “If it is not too much trouble…”

“Not at all.” She smiled and stood up, carrying her cup over to her kitchenette and turning on the sonic kettle.

She took another cup down, a larger one that would look less like a toy teacup in his hands, and added a tea bag to each cup.

Within seconds, the water was hot and she poured, setting the cups aside to give the tea time to brew.

She could feel his gaze on her as she worked, and it reminded her again of how small her space felt with him in it.

But not in a bad way, or a threatening way. The opposite.

She turned and smiled at him. “It’ll just be a minute while it steeps.”

He nodded, his dark gaze on her as they waited. “What do you do on your days off?” he asked after a moment.

“Read. Sometimes I knit or crochet. Cook. Spend time with friends,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not very exciting during my time off. I sort of feel like I’m ‘on’ when I’m working. By the time I’m home all I want is quiet.”

“And here I am invading your space,” he said, giving a small shake of his head.

“No. If I hadn’t wanted to spend time with you, I wouldn’t have invited you in, Xarek.”

His gaze caught hers again, and it felt impossible to look away, like there was an invisible force between them, holding her gaze to his.

It should have been annoying. Should have made her want to crawl out of her skin. All she felt was warm.

And excited. That too.

“What about now? Do you feel like you are, as you put it, ‘on,’ now?”

She shook her head. “No… I’ve never felt the need to try to act interested for your benefit. It just happens naturally.”

He was doing the thing again, holding her gaze.

It was nearly a physical thing, and she took a shaky breath.

He seemed to take mercy on her, glancing toward her book collection, and she turned back to the teacups.

She removed the tea bags with shaky hands, tossing them into the compost collector.

It would be used on the lowest level to grow at least some of the food used by the station. Nothing was wasted.

She carried the cups over to the seating area and set them on the table before taking her seat beside him again, tucking her feet beneath her.

She watched him as he picked the cup up and sniffed it.

His eyes widened. “This smells a little like you,” he rumbled, and she felt her face heat.

He realized what he said and shot her a look.

“When you were sitting beside me in the corridor the other day, I could not help but notice that you smell pleasant.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You smell pleasant, too.”

He gave a shake of his head. “That is being generous, I think.”

“Not at all,” she picked her cup up and took a sip, watching him over the rim of her cup. “You smell clean and warm and peaceful.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and lifted the cup to his lips. She watched him as he took a small drink. Even her largest cup still looked tiny in his hands, like one of the tiny plastic tea sets she played with as a little girl on Earth.

He sat still, seeming to savor it, then glanced her way again. “Very light flavor. A little floral, yes?”

She nodded, smiling. “You have a good sense of taste! Chamomile tea is made from the flowers of the chamomile plant, which is a delicate, pretty little herb grown on Earth. They grow some here in the lower level as well.”

He listened, and she got the feeling that he was really listening, listening. Not just being polite.

“So, how do you have the scent of this lingering about you, Maggie? Surely you don’t drink enough of this tea to make that happen.”

Maggie laughed, studying him. “I use it as a hair rinse sometimes. My grandmother told me about that. I don’t know if it works, but I like the way my hair smells after,” she said, shrugging awkwardly.

“And I also have these little sachets made with dried flowers, including chamomile, in with some of my clothing to make them smell nice.”

He leaned over and she nearly dropped her cup. Was he… yeah, he was sniffing her, leaning close, his face just above her shoulder. He lingered there, and she felt nearly dizzy, having him so close.