Rae blinked. “Wait. We couldn’t possibly be that well matched. We’re not even the same species.”
“You aren’t. Kaython can’t determine your amplifier, since you’re human. That was Yahlalla, the daughter of Kaython’s former prime—but Garr turned her down.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Vaya insisted, “Garr never does anything he doesn’t want to. And he didn’t want her.” Vaya tapped Rae’s shoulder. “He wanted you.”
Perhaps it should have made Rae feel better, but it didn’t. Worse yet, they exited the river wet, and her shoes were once again waterlogged. Near dusk, they scaled an incline until they were among high ridges, the valley shrinking smaller behind them.
The ridges were colder, particularly with the sun nearly gone, and it hadn’t been out long enough to dry her clothes. A brisk wind hit her damp body and elicited a shiver.
She also stumbled over roots more and more, and Rae wondered how long Garr would march them in the dark.
“Why are you tripping?” he growled, perhaps irritated by Rae consistently doing her best to keep Vaya in between them all day long.
Her anxiety at being so close to something so deadly had coiled inside her tighter and tighter all day long, and in that frustrated moment, it finally found its release: “Because it’s dark!” she shouted, the sound echoing off the trees and crags, louder than she’d expected.
Her heart caught and palms broke out in a cool sweat when she realized he was staring at her with those glittery-bright eyes in the dark. “Oh God. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to holler, I’m just—”
“You’re night blind?” he asked, voice soft.
That gentle tone briefly made her freeze, unsure what to expect from him. “I’m human. We’re all night blind.” It frustrated her that he didn’t know, but she didn’t dare show it.
“That sucks,” Vaya said. “You can see colors at least, right?”
“Yes,” Rae said, swallowing her irritation behind a too-wide smile. “I can see freaking colors. Geez.”
“Good.” Vaya smiled. “The pollen leapers in Lyr have gorgeous infrared patterns and I’d hate for you to have missed them.”
Rae let out a long, pent up sigh and didn’t correct her.
“Maybe we should stop, boss. Unless you want to carry her.”
Garr grunted. “Ask Lyr permission to sleep here.”
Vaya settled into her commune-with-nature pose and Garr scanned the distance. Rae huddled against a squama, trying to siphon some heat from the rough scale.
It was subtly warmer than the air, and broke the worst of the breeze. Her whole body shook from the chill drilled into her by damp clothes and hair.
There was sufficient starlight through the trees for her to see Garr’s approach. She shrank into the squama, and startled when he took hold of her by the shoulder, dragging her against him.
Squirming in terror, she thought for one horrifying moment he was attacking her—but no. It was different. He wasn’t out of control anymore, and this was no attempt to harm her. It was just Garr behind his usual, handsy self.
He settled back and held her against him, her back to his front, and his arms wrapping around her middle. She gripped his forearm, mind buzzing with quiet alarm, but the longer he stayed like that the more her pulse settled.
His arms were warm flesh melted over coiled steel, and Rae steadily realized how protective the gesture really was—and how much warmer it was tucked against him.
Tired from the long march, she ultimately stopped wriggling and her mind went curiously blank. She merely savored the first moment she’d had around him since the clearing where she wasn’t afraid.
“Better?” he asked. He liked being behind her, she realized—he was pressed close and speaking over her shoulder. Whenever he did it, her body reacted.
Her tingling skin and trembling hands didn’t care one bit about his inhuman strength and speed. On a primal level, she was attracted to this inhuman being’s proximity.
“Still not better than my hotel back on Earth,” Rae murmured.
“I won’t apologize for destroying that beast.” He stroked the inner crook of her elbow in a way that felt so good she wormed away from it for fear she’d like it too much.
It had hitched her whole body, tightening a spot in the pit of her abdomen, and the ghostly memory of it wouldn’t quite fade. “I don’t want an apology. I don’t want anything from you at all,” she lied.
“You do. And a Ythirian wouldn’t be too proud to admit what she craved.”
“How could I want you when I’m terrified at every moment that you’ll… I don’t know… hurt me?”