11. Donna

11

DONNA

I sit in that room for far too long. Probably afraid of what just happened between me and Tovan. Probably too scared to face the music.

That he’s gotten under my skin—and I’m not a girl that scares easily.

I finish the vegetable soup he made, surprising myself by drinking down the entire thing. Tovan served me in one of those bowls I use to mix batter for my bluebread and I drank it all, anyway. Having finished it now, I feel a thousand times better than I felt this morning, but gosh, I shouldn’t have let it get so bad that I ended up collapsing.

What if Tovan hadn’t been close by?

Sliding off the bed, I tuck the bowl to my chest as I venture towards my bedroom door and pause. I heard him out there. Soft sounds, like the creak of a floorboard here or the gentle closing of a door there. He’s out there and the thought of facing him again…after everything he said…everything he revealed…

I swallow hard.

A part of me doesn’t want to open the door because he’ll see that he’s weakened some of those walls I’ve erected around myself. That despite his unconventional methods, he’s wearing me down.

Stupid, handsome, sweet talker. Why couldn’t he look like one of my exes? The hate would be immediate. Then I wouldn’t be standing here with a mixing bowl clenched against my bosom, afraid to step into a room in my own home.

“Come on. What’s gotten into you?” I whisper to myself. A deep breath, my chin held high, and I push the door open, ready to face him. Ready to set down the ground rules of this…whatever this is. “Ok, Tovan, listen—”

But I’m talking to an empty room. My mouth slams shut and opens again, as I gasp like a fish out of water. He’s not here.

“Tovan?” I head over to the bathroom and the door is shut. Pressing my ear against it, I listen. No sound is within. “Tovan?”

Gently pushing the door open, I prepare myself for potentially barging in on him naked, but he’s not in the bathroom, either. The room is empty. My cottage is empty, except for me, of course.

That’s…not what I expected.

I stand in the middle of my living room, bowl still clutched to my chest, feeling oddly bereft. The silence of the cottage seems to mock me, highlighting an absence I wasn’t prepared for. Where is he?

A part of me—a larger part than I care to admit—expected him to be here waiting. Maybe pacing anxiously, ready to launch into another impassioned speech about how we’re meant to be together, yada yada yada. That’s what I’d steeled myself for when I finally worked up the courage to leave my bedroom.

But this? This absence? It makes me feel like I have no clue what I’m doing here. And probably I don’t.

I set the bowl down on the kitchen counter, my mind whirling. That’s when I notice the pot simmering gently on the fire. Curious, I lift the lid and a rich, savory aroma wafts up, making my mouth water. Some kind of stew, by the looks of it.

He rifled through my cupboards and found more food. Guess he’s better at reading the ingredients New Horizons left me than I am. I’ve been eating mostly tinned stuff, relying on the pictures on the labels and taste-testing my way through.

I stare at the stew before taking a ladle and giving it a stir. It’s a bit too thick and I add a little water, my lips pursing as my eyes narrow on the food.

Fine. I’m impressed. Not just by the fact that he’s cooking—again—but by the consideration. He’s not here hovering over me, but he’s made sure I’ll have something to eat later.

That’s…that’s more thought than I can say for some of the men I dated on Earth. And I know I shouldn’t compare, that my bar is probably far too low, but I can’t help it.

“Damn it,” I mumble, replacing the lid on the pot. “I can’t let him in so easily.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, right? I’ve seen what happens when Kari find their “fated mates.” I’ve witnessed it firsthand with Catherine and Varek.

Now that was something to behold. Varek had been…well, wild doesn’t even begin to cover it. It was like watching a man transform into a beast before my eyes, all frothing need and desperate longing. He’d been mad with the desire to claim Catherine, to mark her as his own. And Catherine, for all her initial resistance, had been just as caught up in it. The love between them had been palpable, electric.

But this thing with Tovan? It’s nothing like that.

And…

I swallow hard, setting the ladle down as I step out of the kitchen. Wrapping my arms around myself, I try not to get into my own head. But I have to face the music as well —every heartbreak, every disappointment, every moment I felt unwanted or unworthy.

I’ve spent so long convincing myself that maybe I’m just not meant for that kind of love, that soul-deep connection I’ve seen others find. But now…

Now there’s Tovan frickin’ Kamesh. Tovan with the strong arms and deep voice who claims I’m his kahl , his fated mate. Tovan, who looks at me with an intensity that both thrills and terrifies me.

Wouldn’t it be just like the universe to finally give me what I’ve always longed for, wrapped in a package I’m too scared to open?

I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes. “Nothing good comes easy.” It’s a mantra I’ve repeated countless times over the years. No one just frolics through the bushes and stumbles on their Prince Charming like some Disney princess.

But then…has it really been easy? I was abducted, ripped away from everything I knew and loved. I’ve faced challenges and dangers I never could have imagined back on Earth. Maybe…maybe all of that was leading me here. To this moment. To him.

That I deserve someone who wants me with such a strong bond it would chase my breath away…is it really possible?

My breaths are a bit unsteady as I clutch my chest. Because I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want it. Everything he’s offering with this mate bond. I want it all. For someone to love me, to want me, with such an intensity it consumes me, body and soul.

Like Catherine and Varek; the raw, primal connection between them.

A breath shudders from me and I open my eyes, wiping away tears that brimmed. I’ve spent so many years giving up on that dream. Am I a fool to even consider it again now?

Giving myself a shake and taking a few huge breaths, I gather my bearings once more. I stand there for a moment, unsure what to do with myself. The cottage feels different somehow, as if Tovan’s brief presence has altered it in some subtle way I can’t quite pin down. It’s still my space, but now it holds echoes of him—in the lingering scent of the soap he used, even in the stew bubbling on the stove.

Driven by a restlessness I can’t shake, I make my way to the front porch. The afternoon sun is warm on my skin as I step outside, but there’s a slight wind today. Stronger than usual. For a moment, I just breathe in the familiar scents of hay and earth.

That’s when I spot him.

Tovan is out in the field, wielding what looks like a scythe with surprising skill. His movements are fluid, almost graceful, as he cuts through the tall grass. I find myself unable to look away, mesmerized by the play of muscles, the way his scales shift and roll with each swing.

It’s…beautiful. He’s beautiful. Because even though I’ve convinced myself he’s a pest, I can’t deny that. The sun glints off his scales, creating patterns of light that dance across his body. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. He’s tall, handsome, strong…thick.

My heart quickens as I remember the way he picked me off that floor as if I weighed nothing. The good Lord knows that the dizziness didn’t dampen the feeling of those strong arms or the way his hard body felt against mine.

He makes quick work of the grass and my eyebrows rise a little when I notice even Gertrude seems to be trailing him, her thick frame ambling in the path he’s making. At one point, he stops and talks to her and she bays, nudging him with her nose before she nibbles on some of the grass he’s cut. Seems I’m not the only one getting too used to his presence here.

I’m so caught up in watching him that I don’t realize he’s finished until he’s walking toward me. Crap. I turn to the hanging baskets, pretending to prune some of the leaves.

“Lira’an, you should be resting.”

I try not to react to the warmth that spreads through me at the sound of that deep voice. He’s called me that name before. I’m still lost as to what it means.

“I’ve had plenty of rest, thanks to you.” I glance at him, still pretending that I’m busy pruning the flowers. “Your soup really helped.”

“Did it?” He sounds surprised and I try not to look at the way he leans on the scythe thing as if it’s completely natural for him to be out here, shirtless, working under the sun. “I am pleased.”

I snort. “You talk like you’re surprised.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, giving me no choice but to glance his way again. When I look at him, I swear his scales are a little darker.

“It was my first attempt at preparing sustenance for another being.”

I snort again, not believing him. “Well, I’m lucky it turned out so well, I guess.” But then I sober, my eyes truly meeting his. “Thank you. For earlier. You didn’t have to rush to my aid.”

He watches me for a few beats, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking behind those eyes of his. “You didn’t have to come help me in that zimi bush either.”

His words kill whatever I was thinking to say next. My lips shift into a begrudging smile as I turn away from him once more, actually picking some dead leaves off the plants now. “I guess we can call it even then.”

It’s so silent I think he’s gone off to the barn to put the scythe away. For some reason, I start to sing, something that only happens when my heart is light and I’m happy. It’s not Otis Redding this time. It’s Summertime from Porgy and Bess. My strong contralto rises as I turn to the other plants and pick some dead leaves off it too.

The first stanza rolls from my throat like melted chocolate. Rich and oh so good. My whole body feels the melody as I pull it from my soul.

I’m about to start the next stanza when I finish working on the plants and turn to find Tovan still standing there. I stop short, the song in my throat and my heart beating hard. I don’t often sing for others to hear. That awful ex wasn’t the only one to make me push back my dreams of a career in the arts, and I suppose my confidence has waned over the years.

“Tovan, I thought you walked off.”

His gaze falls to my lips. “Your voice…” is all he says, and I wish he would continue. What about my voice? He’s mentioned it before, too. Said it’s what drew him to me. That I disrupted his scanner or something.

“Ah yes.” I huff a small laugh through my nose before stepping off the porch and heading toward the well. “If I’d known you were still standing there, I wouldn’t have belted out my heart like that.”

I only assume he’s following me. For such a big male, he’s so silent. Careful not to stand on the maintenance hatch for the well, I turn on the spigot like Xarion taught me to and fill a bucket waiting there. From the corner of my eye, I spot Tovan watching me.

Just the outline of his form there, his masculinity in my space, and I’m completely aware of him.

“Why?”

I don’t immediately understand what he’s asking.

“Your voice is rich.”

His praise makes a slight tremble go through me, or it might be the sudden gust of wind that whips around us, tugging at my clothes. I blink against the unexpected force, my grip tightening on the bucket handle.

“Thank you,” I manage, my voice nearly lost in the wind. “I don’t…sing much these days.” Not with an audience, at least.

I try to take a step towards the vegetable patch I’ve been working on, determined to water the sprouts despite the weather’s interference. The wind picks up again, stronger this time, and I struggle to keep my footing. The water in the bucket sloshes dangerously close to the rim.

Before I can take another step, I feel Tovan’s presence behind me, his large frame suddenly enveloping mine. His arms reach around me, his claws covering my hands on the bucket handle. For a moment, I’m frozen, hyper-aware of every point of contact between us.

“Let me.” His breath is warm against my ear. “You should be resting.”

A shiver runs through me and not because of the wind. I let go of the bucket, allowing Tovan to take its weight. As I do, my back brushes against his chest, and I have to stifle a gasp at the feeling of his scales, even through the barrier of my dress. I can feel the heat of him, the solid strength of his body, and something deep within me—heck, forget poetry—my clit throbs hard .

I step away quickly, my heart racing. To distract myself from the lingering sensation of his touch, I speak far too quickly. “I used to sing all the time, actually. When I was younger, I even dreamed of making a career out of it.”

Tovan looks at me with interest as he easily carries the heavy bucket towards the vegetable patch. “What changed?”

The question catches me off guard. I follow him, wrapping my arms around myself as another strong gust of wind buffets us. “Life,” I say after a moment. I don’t want to tell him I put my dream behind me for something much more stable. That the fact I had no one believing in me made me not believe in myself. “Dreams don’t always pan out the way you expect them to.”

For a few beats, we walk in silence. “Perhaps,” he finally says. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t still come true in unexpected ways.”

I pause and he walks a few steps ahead of me as I stare at him. Somehow, it feels like we’re talking about more than my singing here. But before I can respond, an even stronger gust of wind nearly knocks me off my feet. Tovan is there in an instant, one arm steadying me while the other keeps a firm grip on the bucket.

“We should get you inside,” he says, glancing up at the sky around us. “There’s a gale coming. I can smell it in the air.”

I look up at Tovan, startled by both his closeness and his words. “You can smell it?” A gale? Aren’t these plains supposed to be peaceful? But I realize at once that the grasses are tall and lush. Despite the warm sun most days, this isn’t a desert, and that means ‘peaceful’ doesn’t mean there is no weather. The strong rains the other day should have warned me enough.

He jerks his chin, those eyes swallowing me whole as they move over my face. “The air pressure is dropping. It will be a significant storm.”

I groan. Not another storm. I haven’t even gotten to half of what I need done since the rains.

As if to prove Tovan’s point, another powerful gust sweeps across the field. I shiver, suddenly cold despite the lingering warmth of the day.

Tovan sets the bucket down and turns to me. The look he’s giving me is so soft, it holds me speechless. He reaches out, his claw gentle as he tugs my headscarf down on my forehead. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt of electricity right through me again.

“Go inside, Donna.” That voice of his is a low rumble that I feel as much as hear. “I’ll secure things out here.”

For a moment, I’m lost in his gaze, in the intensity and warmth I see there. Then I give myself a mental shake and nod. “Okay,” I manage. “Be careful.”

He gives me a small smile, a small twist of his lips that shows me the tip of one fang, and my gaze zones in on it. He’ll want to bite me with that. Sink his teeth into my skin. Why doesn’t that scare me?

“I have more to live for now than just the blessing of another sol,” he says, gaze still eating me up. “I will be careful, lira’an.”

Lira’an .

I watch as he strides towards the vegetable patch, his movements sure and purposeful despite the strengthening wind. Then, with a last look at the sky, still calm and bright despite the rising wind, I hurry inside.

Call me a fool for standing by the door, pacing.

The wind had picked up so much outside that I can hear it whistling now. It’s so strong, I wonder if my new roof will hold.

It’s a sound that takes me straight back to those sweltering Tennessee summers, the air thick with humidity and the scent of honeysuckle. The way the sky would darken without warning, the wind whipping up into a frenzy, the ominous wail of the tornado sirens piercing the stillness.

I swallow hard, daring to peer through the window. The oogas have all hunkered down, lying low on the ground. From here, they look like small boulders with their heads tucked close against their bodies like that. Even they know to take cover.

My gaze shifts and I search for the telltale glint of pink and purple scales, but I don’t see Tovan. Frowning, I’m a bit annoyed at myself for even searching for him. He’s a grown man and at least there’s some boundary between us while we work this out, but…where is he? If the oogas have the sense to hunker down, so should he.

The wind picks up, and my worry grows. I don’t know what to expect with this windstorm. Should have asked Xarion whether there was some sort of basement for me to take cover in if a twister appears. I didn’t even think of that.

I pace again, pausing once or twice to look through the window. Still no sign of the alien. Damn. I haven’t felt this kind of unease since the day I watched a twister rip through my neighbor’s farm, leaving nothing but splintered wood and shattered dreams in its wake.

Making sure the windows and the door are shut firm, I force myself to head farther into the house. The meal Tovan put on has finished cooking, and I focus on serving two bowls. He cooked it, he might want to share the meal with me. That will mean him being in my space again, though. My hand pauses with the ladle as I force down a lump in my throat, searching for any part of me that hates that idea. I swallow hard when I realize I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a bit wary, but I don’t think he’s here to harm me. I’m not scared of him in that way, not since that first day. That fear is long gone and the fear in its place stems from a whole other source.

Meal served, I shudder when a particularly powerful gust screams past the cottage. I swear the building shakes as if I’m being transported to the land of Oz. I’m almost too afraid to look out the window again, but curiosity, and a growing worry for the alien who’s out there braving the elements, gets the better of me.

Peeking through the curtains, I gasp. The once-peaceful landscape is now a whirlwind of activity. Leaves, a kaleidoscope of reds and yellows, swirl through the air like confetti, branches thrash wildly, and the orange grass bends low, bowing to the wind’s fury. I scan the field, searching for any sign of Tovan, my heart clenching with each gust that howls past the cottage.

But he’s nowhere to be seen.

“He must have hunkered down in the barn,” I grunt. I should hunker down, too. Right now, this seems like the perfect weather to go lie down with the sheets right up to my chin and a good book to keep me…

I’m just turning away from the window when I spot a flash of purple. Tovan. He’s running for cover, but not in the direction that makes sense. Not toward my barn. He’s heading toward his camp. Is he so insane that—

The thought cuts off because he is insane. I’ve seen it firsthand, camping by my property line, even though I explicitly told him to leave.

For a moment, I think maybe he’s just grabbing something he forgot, some vital piece of equipment or supplies. But as the seconds tick by and he doesn’t emerge, a cold realization settles in my stomach.

He’s not coming back.

This man, this male , he’s still trying to respect my boundaries, isn’t he? Even when it’s clearly not safe for him to do so. Oh hell. I bite my lip staring in the direction of his camp before a large sigh lifts my shoulders.

“Damn it.” Because I already know what I’m about to do.

Stupid generosity. Stupid kindness. Ma should have raised me to be a cold-hearted bitch like Aunt Mary. How she managed to snag so many fellas with that icy stare and a tongue sharper than a butcher’s knife, I’ll never know. Course, Aunt Mary could also charm the scales off a snake, so maybe that’s why she never needed kindness.

I grab a large, sturdy piece of cloth from a seat nearby. It’s the same cloth I’ve used for curtains at my window, but this is a makeshift shawl I’d been using to keep warm on cooler evenings. Wrapping it tightly around myself, I take a deep breath and push open the door.

The wind hits me like it’s a person, nearly knocking me back inside. For a moment, I tell myself Tovan Kamesh is a fool for thinking he can wait this out in a house made of sticks while the wind is screaming “Let me in. Let me in.” But then again, he doesn’t know the story of the Big Bad Wolf. I grit my teeth and push forward, my legs straining against the gale. Each step is a battle, the wind tearing at my clothes and even my hair, threatening to sweep me off my feet.

As I struggle across the field, I curse myself. What am I doing? He’s insane, but I’m a fool, too. The journey seems to take an eternity. The wind whips stray pieces of grass and debris across my face, stinging my skin, and each step feels like I’m battling with God himself. I keep my head down, focused on each step, willing myself not to be blown away.

Finally, I reach the edge of Tovan’s camp. The structure is shuddering violently in the wind, looking like it might take flight at any moment.

“Tovan!” I shout, my voice nearly lost in the howling wind. “Tovan, are you in there?” I ask the obvious. Even though I know this alien who is slowly taking over more of my thoughts than I’d like to admit is definitely stuck inside the little thing.

But for a heart-stopping moment, there’s no response. Then, a piece of the structure shifts and Tovan emerges, those yellow eyes wide with shock.

“Donna?” he calls back, disbelief evident in his voice. “Is something wrong? You shouldn’t be out here!”

We’re screaming against the wind.

“You can’t stay out here!” I yell, gesturing wildly at the chaos around us. “It’s not safe!”

He stares at me, seemingly frozen in place. And there is…conflict in his eyes.

“Come on!” I reach out, grabbing his arm across the fence. “We need to get to shelter!”

For a moment, he resists, but then another powerful gust rocks us both. When I tug again, hardly able to even open my eyes wide enough now to see, I feel him relent. He climbs over my fence as if he’s a gymnast and his warmth is suddenly by my side.

We turn back towards the cottage, leaning into the wind and I pray we make it back without being lifted up like a kite. Tovan leans closer, his large frame practically like a shield trying to protect me.

“You shouldn’t have come, lira’an. It’s not safe.”

Lira’an .

“You see this, right?!” I gesture with one hand, the other gripping the shawl for dear life. “Do you really think you could stay in that little camp?! Why didn’t you go to the barn?!”

He leans closer, protecting me some more, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. We both know why he didn’t take shelter in the barn.

Pressing on, I have to grip him to keep steady. My fingers dig into his side, into his scales, and I try not to think of how soft they feel against my palm. We’re almost at the edge of the field when a particularly vicious gust catches us off guard.

The world switches orientation. I feel my feet leave the ground, a scream torn from my throat as I’m lifted into the air. But before panic can fully set in, I’m grounded. Thick, strong arms surround me as Tovan pulls me close, shielding me with his body as we both tumble to the ground.

We roll once, twice, before coming to a stop in the tall grass. Breath knocked out of me, I’m only aware that the effect of the wind isn’t as heightened as before. That I can actually open my eyes although I can feel it all around me—just not on me. And that’s when I realize it’s because something else is on me—or someone. Him .

I’m pinned beneath Tovan’s solid form, his body a warm weight above me. The grass around us bends and sways, creating a small cocoon that offers a moment’s respite from the wind’s assault.

I’m stunned, my body lighting up in ways that shouldn’t occur as I stare up at him. In this moment, with his focus on the wind around us, he doesn’t realize I’m staring. That I’m drinking him in.

The strong line of his jaw, the furrowed concentration in his brow, the way his eyes narrow against the wind—I commit every detail to memory. A stray lock of hair falls across his forehead, and I fight the urge to brush it away.

My breath catches as I realize how close we truly are. I can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth underneath his scales seeping through the thin fabric of my clothes. The scent of him envelops me—a mixture of earth, sweat, and sweetness.

I tilt my chin up a little, inhaling again. So sweet. He smells good. I’ve never…never wanted to dip my nose into the crook of a man’s neck and just inhale his essence before. Not like this.

For a heartbeat, the howling wind fades away, and all I can hear is the thundering of my own pulse. Every point where our bodies connect threads electricity underneath my skin, each touch sending sparks through my system.

Suddenly, Tovan’s gaze snaps to mine. His eyes widen slightly, as if he too is only now grasping the intimacy of our position. For a moment, we’re frozen, caught in a wordless exchange that seems to stretch into eternity.

We should move. We’re in the middle of a storm.

But…

I watch as something shifts in his expression, and our position becomes even clearer. He’s settled between my thighs. In a position I haven’t had a man in…how long? Forever? A position I’ve wanted to be in so many times, lying alone in my bed with a battery-operated friend that, while effective, just always left something missing. Something like this. His weight. His heat. Touch .

Tovan doesn’t make me feel too big or clumsy.

I feel like a woman …and that…that is slowly breaking me.

When his leg presses hard into my thigh, I blink, before I realize it’s not his leg at all. My eyes widen at the same time that my core reacts, clenching, a whimper that I wish gets lost to the wind leaving my throat. But the wind raging around us is not my ally. Tovan hears the whimper and I see him react.

It’s his eyes. They get…hungry.

I don’t know why I do it. I’m in a field, the wind raging around us, and maybe I’ve gone a little mad from the hypoglycemia. Because I tilt my chin up.

I tilt my chin up and I hesitate for a moment.

Then I press my lips against his.