Chapter 18 - Polly

Aloryk offers his hand to help me up from the ground. I take it, enjoying the feeling of how his huge palm and rough fingers envelop my hand completely, almost making it seem dainty in comparison. And feeling ‘dainty' is very new for me.

"You ok?" Chastity asks as Aloryk starts to tug me away from the others. She lifts her chin, and has that look in her eye that every girl knows. It's the look you give your friend when you're trying to get a gauge on whether she needs rescuing from a guy. I'm not normally the recipient of those looks back on Earth, but I've doled out a lot of them. The worst ones are when your friend definitely wants you to intervene but the guy gets all pissy because the ‘fat friend' is cockblocking him. They don't understand that they never had a chance to begin with, and my prettier friends were just being polite.

It feels a bit topsy-turvy for it to be the girl who looks like Chastity - a girl, I have since found out was a porn star back home - to be the one giving me ‘the look'.

"I'm good," I smile, grateful for her checking in nonetheless. I just got here and yeah, Aloryk claims I'm his girl, but they don't know if I claim him right back, or if I want to take it slow. "Good night," I offer out to everyone, along with a dorky little wave as Aloryk seems to pick up his pace.

Is it wrong for me to be kind of excited right now? There was a lot of talk about the other rescue party while we were eating. Alana's guy is heading it up and I could tell she is anxious for him to return. And they've all gone back to that horrible cave to face those nightmarish creatures.

I try to temper the butterflies flitting about in my stomach with the way Aloryk's thumb keeps brushing back and forth over the back of my hand in his.

I don't think anything's going to happen tonight. The poor guy is bandaged up and healing. Plus, he spent the whole of last night with his face between my legs so he must still be tired.

My cheeks flush at the memory of how desperate I was for all those orgasms he was so happy to give, and I find myself peeking up at Aloryk as he guides me to his home.

His home.

Funny how that makes those damn butterflies of mine flip around. It's just a hut, but it's his, and there's something about that that blooms a warm feeling in my chest.

Once we reach the small stone structure with the woven-leaf roof, it looks remarkably like all the others around it, especially with only the light of a nearby small fire. Aloryk hangs back, gesturing for me to enter first.

There is a collection of spears leant up against the stone wall, a huge nest just like the ones Chastity had shown me in the girl's hut, and pots and trunks too. It feels homely, but, kind of lonely too when I think of Aloryk living here all by himself. It's functional and small.

And the man who owns this home is currently standing still, filling the doorway with his huge frame as he watches me survey the place. I turn slowly in a circle, trying to take it all in. When I eventually find myself facing him, Aloryk looks like he's holding his breath for my approval.

" It's lovely ," I say, smiling.

And it's true. I never thought I'd say that about a hut of stone, but it feels cozy with Aloryk here with me.

A whoosh of air leaves him on hearing my appreciation of his home - only for his lungs to seemingly fill themselves back up again, judging by the way his chest puffs with what I can only assume is pride. You know, for a huge, 7 foot alien capable of killing monstrous creatures with his bare hands, Aloryk is kind of adorable.

He steps closer, wearing a boyish grin, his pretty skin-stars dancing excitedly all over his body. There's a cute collection of tiny ones peppered across the bridge of his nose and on his cheeks, making it look like he has sparkly freckles. But then he's standing directly in front of me, my head almost leaning right back, and his bent down just to retain eye contact. And it all makes me start to question how I can think of someone so huge as cute and adorable. This guy could crush me in an instant and with very little effort.

Why do I like that, though?

After a beat or two, holding Aloryk's gaze as we stand so closely, I start to fidget under the intensity of his attention. My eyes drop down to his wide shoulders and then to the broad expanse of his tanned chest. I stare, watching the little neon colored lights putting on a show for me, dancing, whirling, flashing. It's like his muscles are a stage and his stars are performing auditions, trying to catch a casting director's attention.

Aloryk clears his throat as if self-conscious about the antics of his stars and having me watch them. "I have something for you," he says in a low, raspy voice, distracting me from the way all his little lights seem to be turning a lavender shade of purple - the same shade as the dye in my hair.

He turns and opens one of his trunks. I'm wildly curious, but I stay where I am, watching with a clear view of his poor, bandaged wings for the first time. It looks as though they are now arranged in the positions they should be; the left that had been sagging low now at a more natural looking angle and fixed to a splint. I've been wanting to ask what the healer had said all evening, but as soon as I'd gestured to them and gotten out a ‘your wings… what did-‘ , Aloryk had deflected the question before I could even properly voice it.

I can take a hint.

But I'd still like to know.

He got most of those injuries while protecting me from those creatures after all. I feel kind of responsible in a round-about way.

I'll ask him again once we've both had rest. And if he still won't answer, maybe I'll talk to the Healer myself.

"Here," he says, turning and standing. He comes closer, bringing with him a collection of things clutched in his huge hands. "I asked the other humans what it is that females need. I wanted to be prepared for when I found you."

I peer into the cradle of his palms and see a crude, wide-toothed comb, whittled from wood, a small cup made from lumpy clay, and a folded piece of soft hide.

"They told me other things as well," Aloryk continues, sounding apologetic. "But I did not know what a ‘ strong-ass maga-rita ' or a ‘ big-boy thruster three thousand ' was, so…"

A snort-laugh escapes me. "Were those Chastity's suggestions?" I've only spent the better half of an afternoon with her, but it sounded just like something she'd say.

Aloryk nods with a smile before a confused look crosses his face. "And then she said that I could be my future female's ‘ big- three-thousand-thruster-boy ' so that one did not really matter." He shakes his head at himself and shrugs, "or something like that. I forget."

My cheeks warm as I grin up at him before returning my attention to his gifts. "You made these?" I ask. Aloryk nods above me. I've never had someone actually make me things with their own hands before.

Picking each one up, I notice something; on the comb is a carved shape, and it appears on the cup too. Holding up the delicate soft hide, I see he has stitched on a patch there too.

"This can be used for bathing or we can make it into a covering for you," Aloryk explains, but my eyes are still intent on the sewn-on patch shape;

A heart.

It seems so out of place here, in this primitive place. Like he'd seen a Valentine's balloon randomly out here in the jungle and wanted to copy it. But here it is - on these gifts this alien has made for me. I lay the patch out on my palm and trace the shape with my finger. Does he even know what a heart means?

"It is your skin-etching."

The words are deep and quiet as they rumble from above me like soft thunder.

"I dreamed of you for so many nights. And I would see this shape on your skin." Aloryk tells me, his tail flicking at the corner of my vision. Slowly, he tips the remaining gifts into one hand and uses his free one to join me with tracing around the heart, too.

I find myself transfixed by watching his thick, calloused finger slowly dragging along the edge of the shape. Then he stops, and I hold my breath while I follow the course of that big hand as he reaches forward to gently push aside the fabric of my pajama top and reveal my tattoo.

Slowly, Aloryk resumes his heart-tracing. Only, it's the one on my skin now, and I know if humans had skin-stars like Trixikka, then mine would all be racing to meet his touch. Every bit of energy in my body feels poised and focused on that delicate, yet maddening drag of his fingertip even though it's as soft as a feather.

"What does it mean, this heart you gave yourself?" he asks, all his attention on his own gentle stroking of my skin.

"It-" I feel suddenly flustered. No-one's ever asked me about this particular tattoo before. It's such an innocuous shape, so simple, so… boring .

On the surface at least.

It was difficult to do, too, considering I inked it myself, using a mirror. I had to follow the stencil lines so perfectly in the reflected image.

"It's just a heart," I lie, watching as Aloryk's gaze comes up to my face now, like he can read the untruth written across my features just as easily as if it were the headlines in a newspaper. "Well, I-" I find I can't lie to that face. Those earnest, soulful-looking violet eyes, the tempting lips, and those softly twinkling freckles. I take a breath before continuing. "When I was younger, my mom found out that my dad was leading a double-life." Aloryk's brow creases ever so slightly, his skin-stars rushing there as if they were trying to soothe out the confusion. "He had me with my mom, but he also had another woman, and two children with her. The eldest - a girl - was pretty much my age, give or take a few months." Aloryk stops tracing my tattoo now, and I feel compelled to reach for his hand and hold it. So, I do. "Dad had the kind of job where he was always away on business trips. At least, that's what my mom thought. Turns out, he was spending most of his time two towns over, making a second little family. On the day Mom found out, she made him choose."

I look down at where I'm clutching Aloryk's one big hand with both of mine, feeling the heat of anger and pain that comes with recounting the memory. The swallow I take is thick and uncomfortable,

"He chose the other family," I whisper. "He left, and he never came back. Never called. It was like Mom and I were just toys that he'd lost interest in." Forcing myself to look up to Aloryk and meet his eyes, I sniff away any attempt my body is making to try and cry. I will not cry for that man. "When he left it really felt like he stopped loving me that day. Like he had moved on to newer, better, smarter, prettier toys. But I'm not a toy. I have a heart and a soul, and feelings . So I gave myself that tattoo to remind myself of that fact."

There's nothing but the sounds of the jungle bugs chirping and buzzing for a moment or two before Aloryk comments as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, "all that hurt and meaning for one little shape?"

I'm about to tell him that I once thought about adding to it; a dagger, some teardrops, some thorns or barbed wire. Everything I thought to add felt too cliché. But Aloryk whirls around and drops in front of another trunk before I can even get one word out. "What is your father's name?" he asks over his shoulder.

I feel my brows knit and I shake my head. "What? Why?"

Aloryk stands, now facing me with both hands full of those pretty glowing stones. "Because I am going to the Temple to make life-stone offerings." I'm still lost, but he continues with a frown on his very serious looking face. "If I pray to the Goddesses for them to bring your father here-"

I interrupt his angry babbling with a laugh. "You'll what? Beat him up?"

Aloryk's jaw sets to granite. "I do not know what it is I shall do, but no-one can just hurt my mate like that without punishment." The words are said with a frustrated growl and my eye catches on the way the tuft of his tail curls and twitches like an enraged lion bound to the confines of his cage.

I step closer to that lion - my lion - and place a hand on his muscled forearm, secretly delighting in the way his skin-stars race to meet my touch. "It doesn't matter now. I wouldn't want him here anyway." The thought is actually quite a comical one - a middle-aged human man trying to grasp some form of control and power over these seven foot warrior Gods and getting pissy because no-one's paying him any attention. That's what I'd come to realize later on in life; that he'd sought out two families for himself because the attention and status from just one wasn't enough for him. We weren't enough.

I wasn't enough.

I often wondered if he went on to repeat the pattern after Mom made him choose. Did he start afresh with a new second family, or was that other woman and their two kids enough after all?

I'd tried to approach the daughter once. We had both been around 15 or 16 and I'd found out a lot about this other family by talking to Mom when she had taken to the bottle. When she had good days, Mom wouldn't touch a drop. But on the bad days… well, I just tended to stay out of the house. They were few and far between, but God , she'd like to talk about my dad on the times she caught me before I could leave to be anywhere else but with her.

‘ Delphine is her name .' Mom had mumbled before tipping the last of the bottle of merlot into her glass. ‘Called her pretty little daughter that, too. I mean… who does that? Sons get named after their fathers, but what kind of self-centered woman would name her daughter after…' She'd babbled on and on after that, calling it a stupid, pretentious name and making me promise that I would never approach that family because Dad was still paying the mortgage on our home and heaven forbid we upset that man's perfect life with his perfect family.

She'd cried herself to sleep on the couch that night. Finding out that Dad had proposed to this ‘Delphine' recently was just another stab with an invisible knife. Mom had been waiting on a proposal ever since she and Dad were teens.

As it turns out, there weren't too many Delphines in the county, and even fewer who also had mothers by the same name. My half-sister was easy to find.

I found out via social media that she preferred to go by ‘Delphi' and soon I was skipping my school to go to hers, trying to catch her after cheerleading practice. I remember she looked nothing like me. She was tall and slender, built like a model with beautiful raven-black hair and olive skin. I looked like a blob of uncooked dough compared to her - like she was the perfect prototype of a fully-formed woman, and my maker had given up half-way. I should have taken that as a sign not to approach her, not to explain about our dad.

It did not go down well.

I don't even know why I'd done it. She hadn't believed me, and I assume Dad lied like his life depended on it when she confronted him. There were happy, smiling photos uploaded online of them all at their lake house a few days after. Delphi had these gorgeous dimples and perfect teeth that I couldn't help but stare at.

Dad withheld the mortgage payments on our house for the next five months.

I never tried to contact Delphi again.

Although, as I got older, it was difficult to escape her. She became a bit of a minor celebrity having been a professional physiotherapist who ended up marrying one of her big star football player clients. Her, and her perfect husband even had their own reality show. Then came her own clothing and make up lines…

It's kind of hard to believe that we even share any DNA sometimes considering how different our lives turned out.

There was a time at the beginning of this whole mess that I felt like she'd stolen my dad away. But it was never her fault. It was his. Because he was a selfish, cowardly little man and believe me, there have been many times in my life that I'd wished someone would knock some sense into him… or at least a little empathy.

But none of that even matters now. I'll never see him, or my almost-sister, Delphi ever again.

"Let's just go to sleep," I tell Aloryk with a squeeze to his arm. "We both need the rest."