Page 81 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid

“I am told it is modeled after the architecture of their homeworld.” He studied her profile as she gaped in awe. “I imagine they hoped it would help with homesickness.”

“It’s nothing like the lodge,” she noted, stepping into the hall. Rainbows cast by the cut glass sconces danced over the planes of her face, and she caught one in her palm, smiling down at it.

Even with the bruise still blooming over one cheek, she was so beautiful it made his heart ache.

“The lodge is meant to be rustic, I think.”

“I want to argue with you for calling that crazy high-tech place rustic, but if this is what you’re comparing it to…” She huffed, shaking her head. “I guess rustic is right.”

A door slid open in the middle of the hall, and a familiar figure leaned out. Pandora’s brows climbed as her gaze fell on them. “Oops! Don’t mind us!”

“Pan—” The door shut before Cordelia could finish the name. “…dora. Seriously?”

Rentir canted his head at Pandora’s strange behavior. “Ah, well… Would you like to choose a room?”

Still frowning, she nodded. “Yeah, sure. May as well.”

“They’re all identical,” he said as she poked her head into the first room. In terms of decor, the rooms were a continuation of the main hall. There was a bed much longer than it was wide, covered in a plush, feather-down duvet.

Cordelia sank her hand into it, whistling. “These things are fancy on Earth.”

“They are fancy here, too.” He’d never slept under anything so sumptuous. The hybrids’ bedding all came from the fabricator, printed from plasticine filaments. They were neither particularly soft nor warm.

Cordelia trailed her fingers over the bed as she stepped away from it. “Where is your room?”

He shifted uncomfortably at the question, avoiding her gaze. “In the hybrid quarters.”

“Show me.”

He led her out of the room and down the elevator until they were at the lowest level. The door dinged open, revealing the sterile white lighting of the hall.

Cordelia stepped off with a frown on her face, looking askance at him.

“We are not afforded the same luxuries, as you can see,” he mumbled.

“No kidding.”

A light flickered overhead, the bulb on the brink of failure. She gestured to the long row of identical, plain doors.

“Which one is yours?” she asked.

He led her to the third door on the left. It whined a bit as it opened, sticking for a moment before it finally retracted into the wall. Embarrassment gnawed at him as she brushed past, stepping into his sparsely appointed quarters.

His bed was a narrow thing, only just long enough to fit his body and not quite broad enough across. The sheets were nowhere near the opulence she’d just indulged in. The only other feature in the room was a doorless closet, little more than a rack to hold a half-dozen uniforms of the same simple, black fabric.

She said nothing, and the silence was damning.

“Are they all like this?” she asked at last, allowing him to release the breath he’d been holding.

Did she think less of him now, knowing what the Aurillon thought he and the other hybrids were worth? Maybe she would never learn of his betrayal; maybe this, alone, would be enough to put her off of him forever. She’d already been determined to put distance between them. Would this convince her she’d made the right decision? Despair churned in his gut, and he couldn’t meet her eye as he answered.

“Yes. They are identical. Though the quarters below for the miners house two to each room, so it could be worse.”

He couldn’t read her expression. She took three steps, clearing the room, and sat down on the edge of the bed. As paltry as it was, he couldn’t help a surge of satisfaction at the sight of her in his bed. The obsessive part of him wanted to push her down against his inferior sheets and taste her pretty cunt again. He wanted to thrust more than his tail inside of her. He wanted to?—

“It’s like a prison cell,” she said, meeting his gaze.

His lustful thoughts derailed.