Page 26 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid (Hybrids of Yulaira #1)

Rentir had stuffed the metal tray from the kitchen so full that it was in danger of toppling to the ground with any wrong movement.

Cordelia had insisted on being permitted to shower while he prepared food, lamenting the ‘rind’ she’d acquired during their hike.

She’d declined the perfunctory shower he’d found in one of the guest rooms, instead making her way to the room with the simulated rainstorm and soothing music playing on a loop.

“You behave strangely,” a deep voice intoned from behind him as he approached the room.

He nearly dropped the tray in surprise. Turning, he pinned a glare on Melam. Melam was too close to Cordelia while she was vulnerable, skulking around in these halls that Rentir didn’t know half as well as he did.

“What do you want?” Rentir asked.

Melam leaned against the wall, crossing all four arms over his broad chest. “To understand,” he said, three eyes perusing Rentir as though he was wearing his secrets on his skin. “The way you look at her. The way you react to me. I have not seen a hybrid behave as such.”

“I was a guard before the rebellion. It was my task to be wary.”

“Perhaps.” Melam agreed, but his tone was unconvinced. Two of his eyes flicked toward the door. “Have you been with her long?”

“A handful of days,” Rentir said tightly, uncaring that he was exaggerating.

Melam ran a hand over his chin. “A handful of days, and yet you were willing to attack a male twice your size to protect her. You’re an enterprising guard.”

Rentir sneered at him, annoyed by the conversation and by the male’s mere presence. “You must excuse me. My female needs to eat.”

When he turned back to the door, Melam called, “Your female?”

Rentir didn’t correct himself.

The door slid open, and a plume of humidity spilled out into the hall along with the room’s soundscape of tinkling music and soft animal calls.

He stepped inside and hugged the section of wall shielded from the falling water to keep Cordelia’s food from getting soaked.

It was dark in the room, but his vision was quick to adjust. He could see nearly as well in the dark as he could in the light, only without the saturation of color.

He set the tray down on a low table nestled along the back wall, hemmed in by thick cushions used in lieu of chairs. He scanned the room from his dry vantage point, squinting as he tried to make out her form through the endless, pouring rain.

A flash of artificial lightning lit up the room.

Cordelia was floating on her back in the middle of the expansive bath with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

He’d seen her for only an instant, perhaps less than a second, and it was enough to make him painfully hard and desperate with longing.

Her body was similar to his own and yet so unlike it. Softer, stranger, with different swells and curves. He wanted to touch them all, taste them all. He shuddered, tearing his gaze away as thunder rolled through the room.

He should shut the rain off and turn the lights back on. Cordelia couldn’t see well in the dark. Instead, he took one helpless step toward the bath, and another. His skin began to glow in the darkness, a beacon of luminous purple, but she didn’t react.

The hybrids had often bathed together in youth, not in grand baths like this one, but in tiled rooms filled with open shower stalls. They had shared soap and scrubbed each other’s backs. There was no modesty between them, not like the shyness Cordelia had shown.

He should turn back. Leave her in peace. Let her preserve her modesty, for whatever reason she valued it. He began to pant. His joints locked up as he warred with himself.

Her pale skin seemed to glow in the vast darkness of the room, as though she was emitting a soft white light, so dim compared to the bioluminescence of his skin.

Another flash of lightning lit her in stark relief, and as the thunder subsided, he realized he could hear her voice just beneath the patter of the rain.

She was humming to herself as she drifted over the surface, a soft smile on her face.

His shaking hands pulled the hem of his shirt from his pants, then dragged it over his head.

It hit the ground with a wet sound as he reached for his bottoms, stepping out from the protection of the awning.

Water sluiced over his bared skin as he dragged the fabric down his legs and wrestled them free along with his boots and socks.

A splash drew his attention back to the bath.

Cordelia was standing in the middle of the water, concealed up to her waist. Her breasts hung like teardrops under the weight of gravity, bared to him as she wrung the water from her hair and dropped it over her shoulder.

He only knew what they were because he’d asked Haerune, curious about the difference in her silhouette.

His brother had answered the question with great discomfort.

Their chests were similar in form, but without the extra swell beneath the skin.

Breasts, to feed young. Given their function, his fascination with them made him feel… untoward. Guiltily, he dragged his gaze back to her face.

There was a small divot in her abdomen, one he lacked. It did not look like an injury, but he could not guess at its purpose. Her cheeks were still an alarming shade of red, but her eyes were brighter, and the darker half-circles beneath them were less prominent.

She still had not noticed him. Could she see anything at all?

A preemptive whine for forgiveness escaped him as he took his first step into the gradual slope of the bath, water licking over his ankles.

She did not seem to hear him over the droning rain; her face was serene as she tipped her face back and let the water course over it.

He hadn’t made such a sound since he was a child quarreling with his brothers, but she called forward all manner of feelings he’d long thought lost to him.

He waded in deeper, the water reflecting his glow at him in rippling waves of violet light. She didn’t notice him until he was close enough to touch her. Her eyes went wide in that wild way, flashing the weird whites around her iris, and she ducked down into the water.

“What the hell are you doing?” she called over the rain, wrapping her arms around her chest.

“Bathing?” he offered up numbly.

Pursuing you mindlessly, because I feel like I’m going to die when you stray too far. I need to see you, need to smell you, need to touch you.

The purple glow of him painted her pale skin, and something possessive surged within him at the sight.

“So, use one of the fifty showers!”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Are you insane?”

“Yes,” he said brokenly, sinking to his knees before her. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I need to—I need to touch you.”

Her eyes darted between his, her expression skeptical, but she didn’t say no. Hope surged within him.

“Please.” He begged, scooting closer to her, close enough to scent her in the humid air. His cock jerked beneath the water. “Cordelia, please. Help me.”

She stared at him for so long that his hope began to curdle until he was bracing himself for the rejection he was sure was coming.

He should not have entered the bath. She was angry with him, as she should be.

He had ignored the modesty she’d demonstrated, following his impulses as though they were of more importance than her feelings.

Surely, he had damaged the fragile trust between them now, all because he—

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft that he thought he’d imagined it, barely a sigh beneath the noise of the rain. Lightning illuminated her as she reached for him, the thunder clapping as her palm smoothed over his bare chest.

“What?” His heart pounded in his ears far louder than the artificial storm.

“I’ll help you, Rentir.” She moved closer, eyes dipping to his mouth as her hand slid up his neck, slipping behind him to sink into his hair. “Come here.”

He stared at her, paralyzed by the shock and the yearning, as she tugged his face to hers.

“What are you—”

She pressed her lips against his, cutting him off.

Her eyes were closed, her brows knitted together.

The hand in his hair kept him from pulling away, holding him at her mercy as her soft mouth moved gingerly over his own.

She drew away, hardly a finger’s length, but it was still too much, too far.

He chased her, cupping her face in his hands and slanting his mouth over hers again, taking more of her taste for himself.

When she loosened her grip on his hair and began tapping his chest urgently, he finally relented.

She gasped, laughing a little as she looked up at him from beneath her wet eyelashes. “Let me drive.”

For a moment, his lust-addled brain couldn’t decipher her meaning. Then her fingers curled around his jaw, and he understood; she wanted control. He would give it to her. He would give her anything she asked for.

“Close your eyes,” she murmured, gaze dipping to his mouth.

Obediently, he shut them. “What is this?” he asked hoarsely.

“Kissing.” She whispered the word into his ear, her breath teasing the sensitive flesh there.

He shuddered, fisting his hands at his sides so he would not clutch her greedily again.

Her lips brushed over his, teasing, then pressed down more firmly.

She began to move, drawing back only to press in again, lavishing attention on his top lip and then the bottom.

He stayed perfectly still despite his burning desire to grab her, entranced by her strange rhythm.

When her tongue flicked over his bottom lip, he could not help the whine of need that escaped him.

Her breath hitched at the sound, as if it pleased her, and then her tongue was teasing the seam of his lips, urging him to open.

He parted his lips eagerly, and her tongue slid into his mouth, carrying her heat and taste with it.

Velvet soft, it swept over his tongue, claiming him in a way that he would dream of for the rest of his life.

A moan tore from his throat, and he lost the battle not to touch her.

His hands fell on her hips, dragging her closer, trapping his erection between their naked bodies.

He liked kissing. He wanted to kiss her forever.

Her arms twined around his neck as she continued to tease him with her tongue, pressing her breasts against his chest. They were pillowy and soft, contrasted by the tight little pebbles of her nipples. He felt drunk on sensation.

When her hands wandered, trailing down his neck toward the uneven flesh of his back, he stiffened.

She drew away in confusion, looking askance at him.

He shook his head and dove for her mouth once more, urging her hands back up to his hair.

She obliged, and the momentary panic he’d felt at her discovering his scars faded, eclipsed by lust.

As he became more confident with her methods, he began to tentatively reciprocate. His tongue chased hers back into her mouth, and he was rewarded with a moan as he mirrored her earlier exploration.

As delicious as it was, it was only stoking the burning desperation within him. It wasn’t enough. He pulled back, panting, and pressed his brow to hers.

“It’s not—I need—” He shook his head helplessly.

“Shhhh,” she soothed, her thumbs feathering over his cheeks. “I know. It’s okay.” She drew away, gently prying his hands from her hips, and dragged him over to the shallower waters.

“Cordelia,” he whined as she urged him down at the edge of the bath, his cock bobbing in the air above the water.

She brushed the hair from his eyes as she knelt between his knees. “I’ve got you.” Her fingers curled around his cock and pumped, and he was lost to her forever.