Page 57 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid

To his surprise, she stiffened at his confession. The molten look in her eyes cooled as she drew back, reaching between her legs to pull his tail free. She shivered as the tip dragged out of her, and she closed her legs.

“Cordelia?” His heart dropped.

CHAPTER 25

Dread cutthrough the haze of Cordelia’s afterglow at Rentir’s declaration.

Felix had said something similar to her once in those final days before the flight. It was… it was too much like a declaration of love. Setting aside how briefly they had known one another, there was a nagging fear within her at his unprecedented devotion.

Everything I care about…

Rentir was just learning his place in the world, barely scratching the surface of freedom. If he convinced himself that he loved her, it would all be ripped away.

She retreated into herself, away from the insane, selfish part of her that took comfort in his open, guileless adoration and loyalty.

“Cordelia?” Rentir reached for her cheek.

She flinched away from the touch, hating herself as his face fell.

“Tell me what I have done wrong,” he pleaded in a low voice. “Tell me how I might fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, tucking her knees under her chin to shield her nudity, suddenly finding it unbearably vulnerable. “You’re wonderful, but…”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “But?”

“You barely know me,” she said as gently as she could. “To get attached to someone so fast… you’re going to get hurt, Ren.”

His brows drew together. “Only if you wish to hurt me.” He leaned closer, searching her face. “Is that what you want?”

Her eyes welled with frustrated tears. “No. But I will anyway.”

He looked so lost. She couldn’t take that fractured look on his face, not after he’d blessed her with one of the best orgasms of her life.

Looking away, she blinked fast to keep her tears from spilling over. “Can I please have a towel?”

Tail flicking, Rentir rose to his feet to oblige her. She watched from the corner of her eye as he went to a shelf set into the wall and pulled out a massive white towel, returning to gently tuck it around her while she avoided eye contact like a coward. He went to the edge of the tub and cleaned himself before grabbing a towel of his own, slinging it around his narrow hips.

Fiddling with a panel on the wall, he adjusted the lighting and the noise in the room. The rain slowed to a drizzle as the lights shifted to an overcast day. The intermittent lightning stopped.

With the lights adjusted, she realized she was sitting next to a low table. Rentir had clearly brought her the tray that sat atop it, completely laden to the brim with food. Guilt made her heart sink further.

He hadn’t been anything but considerate to her from the moment they’d met, and all she’d done was complicate his life and hurt his feelings. That had probably been his first sexual experience, and her sudden rejection would haunt it forever.

“Rentir?”

He looked up at her as he settled onto the cushions across the table. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

“I mean it. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me.”

You deserve so much better than the tragedy that clings to me like a miasma.

He didn’t look comforted by her assurances; she guessed it was too much to hope that he would be. When had anyone ever actually been relieved to hear ‘it’s not you, it’s me’? Fatigue and regret weighed her shoulders down.

He turned away to fuss with one of the pillows on his side of the table, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his mangled back. It was criss-crossed with thick scars, his spots twisted and dimmer where the flesh had healed badly.

“What happened to you?” she blurted. She regretted the thoughtless, impulsive question instantly—even more so when he quickly twisted back around, and insecurity was plain on his face.

“Nothing.” His chest rose and fell fast. His leonine nostrils flared.