9. Maggie

Chapter 9

Maggie

“ Y ou can’t want me,” he croaked, trying to back away.

I wanted to cling, to pin him to my bed until he’d listen. As if I was a young kid desperate to make a friend of a stranger who only wanted to flee.

“I’m sorry.” My shoulders fell. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I was foolish to speak. I’d probably be dead within a month. The odds of me escaping, living long enough to cross what sounded like a very big desert, then finding my sister were less than my odds of robocops showing up, kidnapping me from here, and returning me to Earth.

But if I didn’t tell him now, I worried I never would. There was never the right time or the right place—especially here—to speak of feelings.

Boy did I feel so much for this gentle, quiet, and unassuming male. He was so big. Enormous compared to me. I sensed he wished he could shrink down to nothing. I would bet anything that he wanted to run away and hide.

From what?

I hoped I lived long enough and could remain by his side to find out.

I’d gone from being desperate to return to Earth with my sister to realizing she may have fallen in love with a Zuldruxian warrior in the same way I was falling for Davon.

It hadn’t been long enough to tell if I loved him. I’d known him for less than a week. But his solemn sweetness had glided beneath my skin and when I wasn’t looking, he’d touched a part of me no one else ever had.

I sensed if I could find my way back to Earth, if I left him, I’d mourn his loss for the rest of my life.

So escaping with him was a priority. After that, I wasn’t going to remain with my sister while he walked away, something I’d bet anything he planned to do.

I’d run after him. Take his hand and squeeze it. Tell him he meant something even if he still turned away and left me after I spoke.

This male was well worth fighting for.

All that aside, how could I tell him of my growing feelings?

“You . . .” He shook his head, his silver hair sifting across his shoulders. “Always know you can tell me anything.”

“Except that I like you more than I should.” My words came out bitter. But rejection stung, and he was making it clear he didn’t want me in this way. Embarrassment flooded me, slapping me like a tsunami hitting the shore.

“You can’t like me as more than a friend.”

Lifting my chin, I met his gaze, something I hadn’t dared do while I told him. “You can’t control my feelings. You don’t want them. You don’t want me.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “And that’s okay. I won’t ever push you to feel anything for me. Just . . . don’t keep doing nice things for me or . . .” My throat clogged off with pain. Jeez, I didn’t love him yet. I couldn’t, especially when it was clear he only saw me as a friend.

He gently stroked along my jaw with his thumbs then cupped my cheeks in his big hands. “I want to do everything for you, Maggie. I know it’s wrong, that I don’t deserve even a kind stroke of your hand on my arm, but I can’t help crave whatever you may offer.”

“Get that woman up here,” Wortek bellowed from the top of the stairs. “Davon? What’s taking so long? My guest will be arriving soon, and I want that female tied to her pole, ready to give him an exclusive performance.”

The wind sagged out of me. “We have to go. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

I passed him—started past him, that is. He caught my arm and turned me around, staring down at me as if I truly was his world. His everything.

“You are my mate,” he growled. “ My mate.” He thrust out his hand, showing off a small tattoo on the back. “The sand beneath my boots when I first saw you was evidence I ignored but this . . . This! It’s a sign from my sand god that we belong together. ”

“Davon?” Wortek roared, sounding like he stood at the top of the stairs.

My heart battered itself against the inside of my ribs. We couldn’t be caught like this together. Our faces would give us away.

“We need to go, but we’re going to talk later,” I whispered.

His mate? Sand gods? There was something here that made my chest ache, but I couldn’t think about it now.

The hint of a smile curled his mouth, and that smile . . . So foreign yet gorgeous in the way only this male could be. I wanted to lounge in his arms and beg him to give me a full grin. Tickle him until he laughed. Share everything with him and ask him to tell me why he was sad much too often. Explore all the complexities that made up Davon.

And kiss him.

“You’re right. We’ll talk later,” he said with a stroke of his knuckles down my cheek.