Page 41 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid (Hybrids of Yulaira #1)

“I didn’t know how deep she was until she blew the computers on ascent.

Some kind of EMP charge, just enough to fry the essential systems. She just kept ranting, reading her manifesto, even as the fucking ship burned.

I got the crew to their pods, managed to drop our cargo. It should have been enough, but she…”

She scrubbed her face hard, shoving her hair back behind her shoulders with agitated movements.

“She fucked the emergency response systems. Those pods should have been able to guide themselves down safely, but the propulsion and nav systems never even kicked on. Fell like a bunch of fucking rocks. Every one of them died.”

Rentir sucked in a startled breath.

“Four hundred souls,” she said somberly. “Plus all five of my crew.”

“I’m sorry.” His tail slid over to curl around the back of her knee. It squeezed, grounding her.

“It was my fault.” She was mortified by how thick her voice was, by the tears blurring her vision.

“And Felix…” She shuddered, biting back a sob.

How could that wound still feel so fresh?

“He wouldn’t get into his damn pod, not until I was safe.

We fought for a minute, but I caved. I should have gone down with my ship, but I let him chase me into that pod.

The one pod that deployed as it should have.

It guided me down like a feather on the wind, and it should have been him.

“His own pod never launched. The fire had spread by the time he wrestled me to safety, and it couldn’t even detach from the ship at that point. He died on that burning fireball for someone else’s agenda, because I fucking failed him. I failed them all.”

“The blame should be on the one who betrayed you,” Rentir said tightly. His tail unfurled, sliding away from her, and she nearly reached out to grab it, desperate to cling to that scant comfort. “Not on you, Cordelia. You did the best you could in an impossible situation.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she muttered, digging her toe into the gravel beneath them.

“Then you should heed it.”

She made a strangled sound of frustration, looking up and blinking fast to keep her tears at bay. “If it were that easy, maybe I would,” she muttered. “Do you know what his last words were?”

Rentir looked askance at her.

“He talked to me until the mic cut out, while I was floating down to Earth. He told me he was sorry. That he’d worked so hard to convince me to lean on him, and now he wasn’t going to be able to live up to what he’d offered.

That he didn’t regret one second of trying to wear me down, but he was so damn sorry he couldn’t show me that he was right about us.

And the last thing he said before the line went dead was ‘live a little for me.’” Her tears finally got the better of her, spilling down her cheeks in wet tracks.

She wiped them away gruffly, sniffling. “And I didn’t.

For the longest time, I didn’t. I’m still afraid to. ”

She took a wavering breath.

“They raked me over the coals after what happened. Picked apart my life for the media cycle. Found out I’d piloted a mission early in my military career where the whole crew was a loss.

It was a negotiation for resources that went sideways.

Only reason I lived was because they didn’t need their pilot at the table.

I thought”—she laughed bitterly, shaking her head hard—“I thought I was lucky then. I felt guilty, sure, but so fucking lucky that I hadn’t died in the same hail of bullets. Now…”

She looked at him with swollen eyes, digging her fingers into her thighs.

“Do you know what they said about me on Earth? That I’m cursed.

That anything I touch goes up in flames.

And I think they’re right.” A sob tore out of her chest. “I don’t want to watch you burn.

” She clutched at her shirt just over her heart, wishing she could strangle that organ instead. “Please, Rentir, I—”

He slid along the bench and wrapped his arms around her hard, crushing her against his chest. She let go for the first time in years, wailing like a banshee as he held her close.

Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling so hard she had to be strangling him, but he made no sound of complaint.

Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she could see the purple glow of him through her eyelids, a strange reassurance that he was still there as she fell apart.

His hand cradled the back of her head as the other rubbed soothing circles over her back.

Somehow, she’d ended up in his lap, cradled there like a squalling child.

Her sobs faded to rasping breaths as she ran out of steam, her whole body tingling and half-numb.

Her head was pounding a violent rhythm as she curled into him, breathing deep of his masculine scent.

“You’re okay.” His tail squeezed her reassuringly around her middle. “I have you, Cordelia. I have you.”

When she could finally breathe normally again, she loosed a long sigh. She might have felt ashamed of herself if she’d had the energy for it, but she’d wrung herself dry emotionally.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He continued stroking her back. “I am honored that you felt you could be vulnerable with me. Do not think the gravity of such an act is lost on me. If you were a hybrid, only the strongest bond would permit such honesty.”

She leaned back to meet his glowing green gaze, and her hand slid up his chest of its own volition, skimming over his neck to cup his jaw.

His eyes went heavy-lidded as he shuddered beneath the touch. “Cordelia…”

“Mm?”

His gaze danced between her eyes and mouth in a restless circuit.

She could feel the press of his erection against the swell of her hip.

She leaned in, her eyes trained on the purple bow of his lips.

Her mouth brushed over his, and she hovered there, sharing breath with him.

One of those inhuman whines escaped him, and her core clenched in answer.

Her lips crashed over his, both her hands cupping his face, trapping him where she wanted him. He kissed her back with no less urgency, sinking his hands into her hair. The rasp of his fingers over her scalp sent waves of pleasure sliding down her spine.

When she twisted clumsily to straddle him, the hard stone of the bench digging into her shins, his hands slid down to her waist to steady her.

Fuck it. Fuck all the reasons she wasn’t supposed to do this.

Live a little for me. Felix had begged, and God damn it, she would.

She fisted Rentir’s shirt in her hands as she rolled her hips, grinding over his erection with unmistakable intention. He groaned, urging her onward, opening for her as she delved her tongue into his mouth.

When she jerked his shirt out of the waist of his pants and began fumbling with the clasp, he clammed up. His hand caught hers before it could slide beneath the loosened fabric, trapping her with just her fingertips beneath his waistband.

She drew back, panting, to meet his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” she murmured, lost as to what had made him pump the brakes. “You don’t want it?”

“That’s not…” He groaned and leaned forward, butting his forehead gently against hers.

“I always want you, Cordelia. Every moment of the day. You cannot imagine how desperately.” He trembled beneath her, every muscle strung through with tension.

“But I cannot,” he rasped, dragging her hand out of his pants.

“There are things you don’t… things I haven’t… ”

She sat back and cupped his face in her hands, studying the lines of pain that marred his beautiful, alien face. “Talk to me.” She petted her thumbs over his high cheekbones. “What are you thinking in there?”

His brows knitted together. One of his hands covered hers, pressing it close as he shut his eyes and nuzzled his cheek into her palm. “I can’t,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

“It’s okay,” she said automatically, confused as she was. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

His eyes opened, burning with frustration. “I do, Cordelia. But… it would not be right.”

Gingerly, she climbed off him, sitting back down on the bench beside him. She kept his hand in hers, stroking her thumbs over the smooth, glowing skin. “Why not? What’s changed, Rentir?”

For a moment, she was sure he was going to tell her. His throat bobbed, his lungs expanded. His mouth opened, and then… all the air left him in a rush, and he shook his head.

“Forgive me,” he said again.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said gently. “But you can talk to me, Rentir. I kind of just bared my soul to you here. You can trust me. You know that, don’t you?”

He just gave her that agonized look for a long moment before glancing away. “You must be tired,” he said with his head bowed. “I’ll take you back to your room.”

She wanted to argue, but the weary set of his shoulders stayed her. “Alright,” she agreed softly.