An Alien for Her Heart (A New Home #2)

17. Catherine

17

CATHERINE

T he next few days pass by torturously slowly.

The day after our night of passion, Varek doesn’t return. My heart drops.

What did I expect? I knew it was only a one-night thing. I agreed to that. I’d been fine with that.

Angrily, I scrub at a spot on the wooden flooring that doesn’t seem to want to get rid of the stain I’m working on. A frown so severe on my brow it gives me extra lines.

“Really stupid, Catherine,” I scold myself. A grown woman shouldn’t be affected by something like this. Varek’s absence is for the best. At least, I tell myself it’s for the best, that we both need time to process, to reflect on what transpired between us. But the ache of his absence is a constant companion, a dull throb that underlies my every thought, my every action.

“Damnit.” I brace on a chair and stand, frowning at the bucket of water and the sponge I was using. Reaching for them, I stomp toward the bathroom, but not before catching sight of the little device Varek had given me as a present.

The little vibrating thing sits unused on the table right beside the crate of equally untouched fruits. A tremor in my core makes a lump rise in my throat before I force my gaze away from the thing and march to the bathroom to empty the bucket.

What is wrong with me ?

I’m no virgin but that night…I felt like one.

And now, with him gone, it’s like a part of me has been ripped away. I can’t focus on anything, can’t find solace in the routines that used to comfort me.

I dump the water down the drain and lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are tired, ringed with dark circles from sleepless nights. My lips press into a thin line as I glare at myself.

“Get it together, Catherine. You’re stronger than this.”

But the pep talk does little to ease the ache in my chest. I push away from the sink and head back to the main room, determined to find something, anything, to distract myself.

The hours drag on, each one feeling like an eternity. I try to lose myself in work, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Varek. His touch, his voice, the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the universe. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve pushed him away, that I’ve made a terrible mistake.

But I haven’t!

You don’t fall in love at sixty. You get on with the life that God’s given you and thank him you’re still alive and healthy. I’ve lived a good life. Taken care of myself so I don’t have to visit the doctor every week. The children I have are grown and are hopefully living happy lives back on Earth without me. All in all, my life has been good.

Goddammit. You don’t fall in love at my age because—

Because everyone I’ve ever loved is gone.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. They’re all gone. And now, I’m terrified that I’ll lose Varek too. That I’ll let myself love him, only to have him ripped away from me. The fear is a paralyzing, cold, hard knot in my stomach.

I sink into a chair, burying my face in my hands.

“Goodness, girl,” I whisper to the silent room. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

I don’t know how long I stay like that before I find the strength to rise. To continue on with my day.

I go about my tasks mechanically, tending to the farm, to the animals, but my mind is never fully present. It’s always wandering, always drifting back to him. To the feel of his claws on my skin, the heat of his breath against my neck, the overwhelming passion and tenderness in his eyes as he moved within me.

At the end of the fourth day, I catch myself watching the horizon, my heart leaping at every distant sound, hoping against hope to see his transport rumbling down the path. But he doesn’t come. And with each day that passes, the weight in my chest grows heavier, the doubts and fears louder.

By the fifth day, I’m a mess of raw nerves and restless energy. I snap at the animals, drop tools with shaking hands, and find myself blinking back tears at the most inopportune moments. I’m torn between the desperate desire to seek him out, even while knowing I can never offer him all of myself.

So I stay put. I focus on my work. I try not to—

My head snaps up the moment I hear the engine. Before me, an umu bleats at me in annoyance, its eyes on the tuft of hay being squeezed tight in my fist. Releasing the food, I hurry from the barn, heart in my throat. I look a mess, my hair damp against my head from sweating all day, my tunic stained with dirt and God knows what. But I can’t stop myself from hurrying to the yard.

My heart gives a big, heavy thud the moment I see the light reflect off those beautiful scales.

Varek is just walking past the gate when he stops in his tracks. For a moment, our eyes lock, and the air between us crackles with tension. My breath catches in my throat as I take him in.

He looks tired, his scales less vibrant than usual, and there’s a new scar on his jaw, as well as faint darkened spots on his chest that look like bruises underneath his scales. Neither was there before. My heart clenches at the sight, and I have to resist the urge to run to him, to trace the marks with my fingertips and demand to know what happened.

But I don’t. I can’t. Instead, I force a smile, trying to ignore the way my heart is pounding in my chest.

“Varek,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re back.”

“Apologies for the delay, sura.” Sura. My entire being warms at the nickname. “There were…complications.” He looks like he’s been through something, but his eyes—they’re as intense and captivating as ever, holding mine with a mix of determination and something else, something that makes my breath catch in my throat.

I swallow hard, my emotions a tangled mess. Relief, anger, longing—they all swirl within me, making it hard to think straight. “Complications?” I manage to say. “You look like you’ve been through a war.”

He gives a small, wry smile that flashes one of his fangs and I stare at his lips, only remembering what they felt like against my own. “Something like that. But I’m here now.”

I blink away my lust, scolding myself, as my focus shifts back to his eyes. A moment passes between us, one that feels like the air is charged and heavy with the weight of unsaid words. “Varek…is everything alright?”

For the briefest moment, something passes behind his eyes. And in that moment, it’s like I heard every single word he wants to say but doesn’t. That he missed me, that he’s been through hell, that he’s here now and needs this as much as I do.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Everything is fine now, Catherine. I promise.”

I nod back, not fully believing him but choosing to let it slide for now. “Come inside. You look like you could use a rest.”

He follows me into the house, and I can feel his presence behind me, steady and comforting despite the tension that still crackles between us. I motion for him to sit at the table, even as I try to ignore the fact that his sweet scent seems to be chasing out every other scent that had been present in the room. Now he dominates the space in my mind and in my home.

“I’ll get something for those bruises.” My voice is steady but my heart isn’t. “And some food. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

He sits, watching me with those intense eyes as I move around the kitchen, gathering supplies. The familiarity of the room helps to calm my racing heart, but I can still feel the weight of his gaze on me, a constant reminder of the unresolved tension between us.

I bring over a bowl of water and a clean cloth, sitting down beside him to tend to his wounds. My hands tremble slightly as I dab at the bruise on his jaw, and he closes his eyes, leaning into my touch.

“Thank you, sura,” he murmurs, and the warmth in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.

Fuck.

I rarely curse, but FUCK!

We sit in silence as I clean his wounds, the only sound the gentle splash of water and the soft rustle of fabric. Every now and then, our eyes meet, and the air seems to thicken.

Finally, I finish tending to his injuries and sit back, taking a deep breath. “There,” I say. I put on the voice I used to use in meetings with investors. The friendly one that usually puts them at ease all while trying to sound lighthearted. “You’ll live.”

Varek smiles, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Thanks to you.”

Blast it.

I stand up, moving to prepare some food, needing the distraction. “You should eat something. It’ll help you heal faster.”

He watches me for a moment longer before nodding. “You’re right. I appreciate it, my sura. More than you know.”

So I make him food. I watch him eat. All while the crate of fruits and his vibrating toy sit on the table between us. When he finishes, Varek rises, that scorching gaze still on me. I expect him to say something. To bring up what happened between us that night. He doesn’t.

He’s too polite.

He dips his head in a nod and then he’s off, heading off to tend to the very animals that brought us together in the first place.

We fall into a routine over the next few days. Varek helps around the farm, his strong presence a constant source of comfort and distraction. We work side by side, the tension between us simmering just below the surface. Every touch, every glance, feels charged with electricity, and I find myself looking forward to our moments together, even as they leave me feeling breathless and off-balance.

That first night after he returned was the first night I used his gift. And then the night after. And the night after that, too.

Now I wake flushed each day, my cheeks burning from embarrassment all while that nub between my legs throbs and my core clenches for something more. And I know where to get it, too. I know exactly what my body wants. I just…

One afternoon, as we work in my new garden we’ve started developing at the side of the house, I catch Varek watching me out of the corner of my eye. His gaze is intense, filled with a longing that mirrors my own. My pulse quickens, and I force myself to focus on the task at hand, even as my thoughts drift to the night we shared—and then to the blasted toy he gave me and the fact I will certainly be using it again this night.

Soon it’s like I’m walking through an electrically charged field, each stolen glance and lingering touch adding to the growing heat.

One evening, as the sun sets and the sky is painted in hues of orange and pink, we stand together on the porch, watching the horizon. I stare out across the plains, knowing this can’t continue for much longer. Soon, there will be no more tasks that require Varek’s constant presence on the farm. Soon, there will be no real reason for him to come by.

“Catherine.” Varek’s soft utterance of my name breaks the silence. “I need you to know something.”

My heart immediately slams against my ribs. I force the feeling back, turning to look up at him. “What is it, Varek?”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto mine. “I know this isn’t easy. But…I’m here, sura. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words send a flood of emotions crashing through me. My mouth opens before I press it closed. Because what can I say? He’s demanding nothing. He’s asked nothing of me. But it’s like he’s read my mind. As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

He steps closer, his claw reaching out to cup my cheek. “You don’t have to say anything, sura. Just know that I’m here. For as long as you’ll have me.”