Page 35

Jennette

If Seeker was human, I would have kissed him.

That’s what the lean meant, right? But I’m not sure if he understands that. Plus, his features are…different. And he doesn’t have lips, per se.

Our hands are still joined, and I marvel at the difference in digits and joints. Some people might think that there’s an arachnoid quality to his hands, but I find him beautiful and graceful. And the way he smells…

It goes straight to my head, making me feel warm all over.

Not in the usual science fiction way, as if I’m unable to resist his pheromones.

But he just smells right to me, spicy and delicious, like I need to breathe him in.

I can withstand the tingles he creates, but I’m not sure if I want to.

I would love to trace the patterns on his skin, but I’m unsure if that’s welcome or even acceptable.

I’m in unchartered territory, so far as I know. Seeker stands, his motions fluid, a glide of muscle and sinew that is distinctly other, not the way human bodies move at all, more of a swivel than a turn. Then he lets go of me, and I silently curse myself for not taking the risk.

Not leaning all the way in or asking if I can touch him.

But I’m not a thrill seeker, unlike him. I fear rejection and I turtle when I’m nervous.

I’m so very nervous now. We’ve been quiet for so long now that this feels like a new conversation yet it relates to the loneliness that tethers the two of us to our uncertainties, like lunar bodies unable to break free from that stable orbit.

“Is it difficult?” I ask. “Being here on your own?”

He doesn’t sugarcoat his response as he closes the curtains. “It is.”

That’s a smart move. People will think it’s strange if he never takes off his “costume” in the motel room, even at Space Con.

Even the most devoted cosplay fans would still take off their makeup and prosthetics to shower.

He’s better at predicting consequences, probably because he’s taking the risks.

“Anything I can do?” I ask. “I want to help.”

“You already do. More than you know. You’ve been more of a lifeline to me than you realize, I suspect.”

“I’m so glad,” I say softly.

I ponder his words. In my view, they amount to a declaration. In that moment, I dismiss my prior fears. There’s no way he could be so gentle with me if he planned to do something bad—to me or anyone.

That makes me bold. This must be new ground for him as well.

If he’s lived in hiding, he hasn’t made other significant connections.

What we have is special. And even if he’s leaving the first chance he gets, I don’t want to wonder what might have been, what joy I might have experienced, had I only dared.

I’m carpe-ing this diem.

I bounce off the bed and close the distance between us, heart beating frantically with anticipation.

Seeker is so close that I can detect the subtle shifts of color in the patterns on his skin.

He faces me, that intense, spiced scent deepening.

I imagine that it means he’s attracted to me also. Please let that be true.

“Your pulse has quickened,” he observes. “And in secondary light spectrums, you’re radiating unusual heat.”

Oh dear God. Can he see that I want him?

Embarrassment heats my cheeks, along with the flush of arousal he’s already noticed. But in some ways, that makes things easier. He broached the subject, not me.

“I’m experiencing attraction,” I say, trying to sound calmer than I feel. “Does that… I mean, what does that look like for your people?”

“We’re different in many ways.” There’s a note of curiosity in his wonderful voice, and it vibrates along my skin, caressing me without contact. “But we do share certain sensations. Some beings do not mate for pleasure. My people do.”

“Mine too,” I whisper.

“Jen…” The way he says my name is a revelation with a little rumble on the N.

Before, I thought my full name was old-fashioned, and my nickname was common. But with him, I feel brand new, as if wonders await. I swallow hard, feeling like every star I’ve ever glimpsed through a telescope burns within my chest.

“Yes?”

I close the short gap between us, breath hitching because the air between us feels charged like the ionosphere during a meteor shower. But just as I’m about to brush my lips against the side of his face, he withdraws slightly, his back nearly to the window.

Shit. Am I making him uncomfortable? Maybe I misread the cues.

“I’m…concerned. About mingling bodily fluids. I don’t want to hurt you. Or vice versa.”

That…is a good point. I laugh softly. In the romances I read, aliens never worry about getting toxic shock syndrome from the bacteria in their human partner’s mouth. But Seeker’s a long way from home, and if he has a medical emergency, I can’t help.

“Why are you amused?” he asks.

“Because that objection is so you. Not that I disagree.”

“I’m glad you aren’t offended. If you’re willing, I could show you something else.”

If it gives me a chance to be close to him, I’m so there. “Color me curious.”

“It does, indeed, relate to my colors. Can you see the patterns? How they’ve deepened in hue to dark violet?”

Now that he’s mentioned it, the swirls of color do seem more concentrated and intense. “Oh, that’s pretty. What does it mean?”

“It’s a mating display. If you were of my people, you would respond in kind, show me your interest with your own shades.”

“A blush has a similar significance,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks heat.

I’ve never wanted someone like this. My skin feels too small, and normally I don’t struggle with my libido at all.

In the usual course of things, I don’t think about sex too much, and if I do get turned on, I take care of it myself.

The idea of waiting around for a partner is kind of puzzling to me.

“With your permission?” He’s waiting for my verbal assent, his seven-fingered hand hovering in the space between us.

Though I’m not sure what he has in mind, it can’t be too intense, considering his fears about swapping bodily fluids. “Granted.”

Seeker takes my hand and places it on his side, where I discover that the colors offer a raised texture to his skin, sensuous and velvety.

He offers a low sound at the touch, and the pattern deepens to midnight ink, incredibly vivid.

I’m not sure what I’m meant to do, so I trace the intricate lines and whorls, feeling little shocks go through him with each movement, as if I’ve got lightning in my fingertips.

“Does it feel good?”

Lord, but I want to make him feel incredible .

My body aches, just from this much. If I could, I’d rub against him helplessly, trying to cover myself in his scent.

I don’t know why that idea gets me so flushed, but I want to smell of cinnamon and cardamom and saffron, just as he does.

It would be a tiny secret between us, proof that we’ve gotten close and writhed together until our senses sparked with satisfaction.

He said his people mate for pleasure, so they must experience something like a climax. I want to know how that looks for him. I need to hear him lose his composure and beg me for—

Anything. Everything.

“Exquisite,” he whispers. “But it’s growing difficult to contain myself.”

It feels a little soon to wade into these waters, as much as I’m tempted.

But sex muddles everything, and I don’t want to rush things or make it weird between us.

I also don’t want to be a notch on an alien belt.

Is that even a thing? I know Captain Kirk sure bagged as many alien bedmates as he could.

I pull my hand back, a little surprised that such delicate contact could get him this excited. That’s flattering, however.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to push.”

“I have lived in hiding. Physical contact feels especially poignant now.”

I get that, maybe more than he realizes.

During the pandemic, I went months without seeing anyone in person, which meant safety but also isolation.

I taught all my classes online, and we didn’t gather in public spaces.

I didn’t even hug my own mother for half a year.

Necessary precautions, but lonely ones as well.

Time to give him some space.

I wander back over to the bed and plug in my phone. It occurs to me to wonder how he got human tech in the first place and how he’s managed to survive within our infrastructure. If he rented an Airbnb, he must have accounts and IDs, right?

I have so many questions.

“Can I ask you a few things?”

“Certainly. I have no secrets from you any longer. And it’s quite a relief.”

The colors on his patterns have lightened, closer to lilac than violet. I find that fascinating. But it’s also extremely helpful.

If we decide to take the next step, I’ll have no doubts if Seeker is in the mood.