4. Donna

4

DONNA

T his motherfucker is huge.

Even though I’m sure he’s still shifting most of his weight on his own, I can feel his bulk. He could fold himself around me and I’m sure I’d disappear.

I’m not a small woman. Never have been. Ma used to say I was built for comfort, not speed, and she wasn’t wrong. But this guy, this male, god, he’s big.

I focus on picking my way through the tall grass, sweat tickling my brow as the sun gets higher in the sky and the heat of this alien’s scales seems to burn straight through my clothes and seep into my skin.

When we get to the road and my farm becomes visible, I try to push back the thread of nervousness that shoots through me. I’m all alone out here. And now there’s a big alien male in my presence.

My gaze shifts to him as discreetly as I can as we hobble across the road. He’s not looking at me. His eyes are on the farm, and I get another prickle of awareness. I’ll send a message to Catherine as soon as we arrive. Just, you know, as backup.

Because I can feel my heart rate picking up. It’s not just from the exertion of supporting this massive alien. There’s a growing tension in my gut, a mixture of excitement and apprehension that I can’t quite shake.

I’ll be fine, I tell myself. If he tries anything, I’ll stuff a piece of bluebread down his throat and hope he chokes to death. Of course, that really isn’t a plan; it’s not even half of a plan. But I remind myself that Xarion said it’s safe out here, and even though I haven’t known him for too long, I trust the big white rabbit. Xarion said it’s safe, New Horizons promised it, and Eleanor and Catherine are safe—have been safe.

But they’re not you , Donna . They have big alien mates and you’re all alone . I push the intrusive thought away, because being alone certainly doesn’t mean I can’t protect myself. I have a slew of butcher knives in my kitchen and I know how to use them. They can do more than slice beef for stew.

“Almost there,” I say, more to myself than to him. The cottage looms ahead, and I can’t help but think that maybe that eye-searing bright blue paint job wasn’t my best design choice. It practically screams, “Hey, look at me!” It’s not that easy to forget. But I’ve never been so glad to see its weathered boards and slightly crooked porch.

Tovan grunts in acknowledgment, those yellow eyes of his still fixed on the farm. I can’t read his expression—do aliens even have the same facial expressions as humans?—but there’s an intensity to his gaze that makes me nervous.

“So…” I start. “You’ve probably never seen a human before, huh?” I try to keep my tone light, casual, as if having a hulking alien leaning on me is an everyday occurrence.

He turns those piercing eyes to me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “I…have,” he rumbles, his voice sending vibrations through my body where we’re pressed together.

My eyebrows rise. “You have?”

His gaze shifts from mine. “The Korruk brothers. They have human mates.”

Ah, so he knows Eleanor and Catherine’s husbands. “Friend of theirs?”

He grunts and I wonder if it’s because of the pain or if it’s a laugh he’s holding back. “We’re not allies.”

My brows twist again and, as if he can tell that I will definitely distance myself if he’s an enemy of my friends, he continues. “We are acquaintances. Neither ally nor foe. We arrived on Hudo a long time ago on the same ship. But I did not know the brothers before then. Since living here, we have merely passed by each other and exchanged greetings within the settlement.”

I turn his words over in my mind and as I look up, I catch him watching me now. Those strange eyes skip over my face. As if to soothe my fears, he continues. “We Kari, we’re a bit solitary.”

My eyes narrow slightly. “Mmhmmm. Well, this is my place.” I jerk my chin at the cottage before us. We’re down in the yard, just by the porch now and I use one hand to brace on the wooden column. “Let’s get you settled, and then I’ll take a look at that foot. Think you can step up here?”

It’s just one step, but if he can’t put any weight on his bad leg then—

With a grunt, the alien hops up onto the porch and we do an awkward kind of stagger as I lead him to the single chair I have sitting there. It looks like a toy and he settles into it.

As I release him and his heat disappears from my skin, I take a deep breath and step back.

Tovan’s eyes shift from me to skip around, taking in the blue walls with their orange trim, the flowers I hung in baskets on either side of the door, and even the little paper origami rooster I have perched inside on my windowsill.

“It’s…quaint.”

“Thank you. It’s growing on me.” If he were a human, I’d probably take offense to his “quaint” remark. But there’s nothing malicious in his gaze. He seems in awe, drinking in every detail of the cottage.

Or maybe he’s just scoping you out.

I can’t stop my spine from stiffening. “Right,” I say, clapping my hands together. “Let’s see about getting you patched up, shall we? I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

I step inside and close the door behind me with a soft click. The familiar surroundings of my cottage do little to calm my racing thoughts.

Okay, Donna. You’ve got a giant alien on your porch. No big deal. Just your average Tuesday in Tennessee, right? Except even those tornado sirens never brought anything this strange to my doorstep. And this ain’t Tennessee.

I shake my head, trying to clear it as I head for the bathroom where I keep the first aid kit. My eyes dart to the kitchen, where my trusty butcher knives gleam right where I left them.

Maybe I should grab one. You know, just in case he decides human flesh is the perfect dessert after bluebread.

I snort at my own ridiculous thought. Still, I can’t shake the unease entirely. As I rummage through the storage boxes for the first aid kit, my mind conjures increasingly absurd scenarios.

What if he’s engineered all this just so he could scope my farm out? A wave of weariness washes over me. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fallen for a sob story, a charming smile hiding a less than honorable agenda. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…well, shame on me. It’s not like I’ve got a track record of attracting the most…trustworthy…of men.

Brows still furrowed, I give the first-aid kit a yank the moment my fingers close around it. With the kit now clutched to my chest, I turn, worry still etched in my brow as I head out of the bathroom before I pause. Reaching into my pocket, I get my comm device. Better safe than sorry.

I quickly punch in Catherine’s contact and wait, drumming my fingers nervously against the first-aid kit.

“Donna?” Catherine’s voice comes through, sounding surprised. “Everything okay?” In the background, I hear a deep rumble and just know it’s her mate, Varek. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re in bed, in the middle of the day .

No, I’m not jealous. I’m—I’m just…ok, fuck it. Maybe I’m just a little bit jealous.

I release a sigh, shaking my head again to clear my thoughts.

“Hey, Cath.” It’s an effort to keep my voice casual with my thoughts getting increasingly troubled by the second. “So, funny story. I’ve got a, uh, visitor. Big guy. Scales. Says he knows the Korruk brothers?”

There’s a pause. “Wait, are you saying there’s a Kari at your farm?”

“Yep. He’s hurt his foot. I’m about to put on my scrubs again and play nurse. Just thought you should know, you know, in case I don’t check in later and you need to come rescue me.”

Catherine’s laugh is both relieved and exasperated. But she’s laughing. So very different from the first time I met her. She’d been more reserved then. A lingering sort of sadness I knew too well etched in her features. Now, it’s like she’s been given the gift of a second life. “Oh, Donna. I’m sure you’re fine. They may look big and scary, but the Kari are generally peaceful.” She lets out a yelp and a giggle and I hear the distinct growl of her mate. “S-sorry about that. It’s Varek. He’s—” She clears her throat, sobering. “I appreciate you letting me know. Want me to come over?”

I consider it for a moment, then shake my head even though she can’t see me. “Nah, I think I’ve got this. I’ll patch his foot and send him on his way. But maybe check in on me in a couple of hours?”

“Will do. And Donna? Try not to overthink this. Not all aliens are out to get you.”

Her words make me go silent. I know why she’s said it. Like me, she also woke up on another planet, surrounded by aliens who’d saved us from going into sure slavery. The ones that had taken us from Earth, the Tasqals, they were horrible beings. We were lucky the Restitution found us, kept us safe. Lucky New Horizons exists.

“Right,” I whisper. “Darling, I know you’re right. I just have an overactive imagination.” That and a past that’s taught me not to trust. “Thanks, Cath. I’ll talk to you later. Tell Varek hello for me.”

I end the call, feeling slightly better. At least someone knows about my unexpected guest.

Taking a deep breath, I head to the door. Time to face the music…or the alien, as it were.

“Alright, big guy,” I say as I step back onto the porch, but my next words die on my lips. He’s got his boot off and is peering down at a wound that makes my eyes bug out. “Oh, my gosh!”

I rush forward, first aid kit already opening as I grab a set of sterile gloves and tug them on, all thoughts of potential danger momentarily forgotten. The sight of the alien’s injury overrides my caution and the registered nurse in me wakes up and takes charge as if I hadn’t had a break from the ward.

“That looks…Oh God, that looks bad.” The word doesn’t do it justice. The wound is massive—a deep, jagged gash that’s gone through the center of his foot. Now that I can see it clearly without the boot, it looks even worse than I imagined. I suppose I expected that the shard actually missed his foot and only grazed the side of it or something. The low grunts of pain I heard him utter had been so…restrained, almost casual. I wouldn’t have been caught dead being that calm with a hole straight through my foot !

I drop to my knees beside him, heart beating hard as I rifle through the first-aid kit.

“You’re awfully calm for a man with a hole in his foot.” I lift his foot in my hands, noting the sudden wince that seems to move like a wave through his entire being. “Oh honey, you should have said something.” All I get is a low groan, but I don’t look up. My focus is on the horrible wound. With one hand, I balance his foot on my knee as I use the other to pry open the first aid kit.

His foot is surprisingly similar to mine. Larger, of course. Wicked claws for nails, too. A bit thicker than a human’s. But it isn’t grotesque, at least.

“I’m gonna need some leverage with this. Gonna need both my hands.” My gaze shifts to my door. With a nod of resolution, I gently place his foot back down before I rise and head back inside. Two seconds later, I’m returning with an empty supply box, the surface hard and firm. I set it down. Gesturing to his foot, I help him lift it onto the box.

My brows twist. This really is very bad. “I can’t believe I made you hobble on this and you managed to bear the pain,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. The jagged metal of that trap really did a number on him.

Tovan’s yellow eyes meet mine. Unreadable. “Kari are…resilient,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “You’re probably right. Most folks would be hollerin’ like a banshee by now.”

“Ban…she?” He tilts his head.

“Something from Earth.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “A…a screeching spirit.” I take out a pack of gauze from the kit. “The kind that haunts graveyards and drives folks crazy with their wailing.” I mime a scream, contorting my face into a theatrical mask of terror. “Wooooooooo!”

His lips twitch, and for a moment, I think he’s going to make another joke. But then, his gaze turns serious, those yellow eyes boring into mine.

“Ah.” Is all he says. So much for my distraction efforts, so I focus on his wound instead.

His scales gradually diminish in size as they approach his foot, fading into dark purple skin that looks surprisingly soft. The gash runs right through the center, an angry red line against the purple. And it’s still bleeding.

Reaching for the antiseptic, I put a generous amount into a piece of gauze and pause, gaze shifting to his. “This is probably going to hurt. Maybe you should bite down on something?”

To my surprise, he lets out a rumbling chuckle that does something to the hairs all along my arms. “I assure you, female, I can handle a little sting. I once wrestled ten Hedgeruds with my claws alone.” Hedgeruds. He means those brutes that worked for the Tasqals that stole us from Earth. Nice to know they’re generally just scum.

“Mmhm. Well, this ain’t no wrestling match. You’ve got a hole in your foot the size of Mars.” I frown. “Hold steady.”

He grunts. “Are you scolding me, female?”

My brows dive and I meet his gaze, not backing down. “You’ve got that right. You’ve got a serious injury here, and playing tough isn’t going to help it heal any faster.” For a moment, it feels like I’m back in the hospital doing rounds. “So yeah, I’m scolding you. Got a problem with that?”

For a moment, this Tovan’s eyes flash with something—surprise, maybe even a hint of respect. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look I can’t quite decipher. His posture shifts slightly, the set of his shoulders changing in a subtle way that makes me feel like he’s suddenly paying even more attention to me now than he was before.

“Apologies, female,” he says, his voice low and rumbling. “You are correct. This injury is not to be taken lightly.”

I nod, satisfied with his response, but there’s a new tension in the air, not necessarily unpleasant, but definitely palpable.

“Good,” I say, turning my attention back to his foot. “Now, let me finish cleaning this out. And no more tough guy act, alright? If it hurts, you tell me.”

He doesn’t even flinch, just sits there, his gaze fixed on me, a strange intensity burning in those yellow eyes even as I press the gauze to the wound. I work in silence for a few minutes, carefully removing bits of debris and applying antiseptic. The gauze soaks up some of the blood so I can see what I’m working with more clearly and it’s nasty. He’s either got so much adrenaline coursing through him that he can’t feel the pain, or he’s the toughest creature I’ve ever met. Maybe both. The shard went deep, right through the metatarsals—those long bones that connect your ankle to your toes. There’s no way it doesn’t hurt like hell.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus so I can help him as best as I can. “Okay, this is gonna sting a bit,” I warn, reaching for a small tool in the kit that resembles tweezers. “You might want to…I don’t know, roar or something. Let it out.”

The alien’s eyes narrow slightly, and I’m sure I see a hint of amusement flicker in their depths. “I don’t usually…vocalize during intense sensations.”

My eyebrows rise and I have to push past a mind laden over years of reading too many smut-filled books. Alien speak isn’t the same as human speak, Donna. Aliens don’t usually speak in innuendo.

Just to be sure, my gaze flicks up to his face, searching for any sign of a double meaning. A leery grin, maybe, or a glint of something predatory. But those yellow eyes are steady, focused on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. And his jaw, that sharp, chiseled jaw, is clenched tight.

“Alright then,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. Truth is, I’m unsettled and that’s not normal. “Just…let me know if you need a break. Or, you know, a song to soothe your savage alien soul.”

I’m okay with the fact he doesn’t answer. It allows me to focus. But as I continue treating his wound, I can feel the alien’s eyes on me. I try to concentrate, but I can’t help wondering what’s going through his mind. When I glance at him at different intervals, he’s completely focused on me. Not wincing. Not peering at what I’m doing. Not looking at the hole in his foot.

Focused. Focused on me only.

“What on earth were you doing out in that pasture anyway? You live around here?” I glance up and find those intense eyes locked on me still as if he hasn’t even blinked. The realization sends a wave of something through me that makes the hairs at the back of my neck rise in a way that has nothing to do with fear but some other feeling. I should be afraid, shouldn’t I? Those eyes don’t exactly breed natural trust. And yet, I’m not afraid. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t scared of him.

I’m something else.

I’m aware.

Completely aware of myself.

“No, not around here,” he says, gaze shifting to my hand as I set the tweezers down and stare at the wound, thinking of my next best bet at helping this male.

“Well, you’re a long way from home, then.” I rifle through the first-aid kit, my fingers brushing against bandages, antiseptic wipes, and tubes of alien goo that promise to heal everything from a paper cut to a broken bone. I’d had Xarion help me relabel the items in English but even then, some of the things make no sense to me. What I need is a suture kit, and maybe a shot of something strong for both of us. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, then? You lost or somethin’?”

He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through the floorboards, and the sound does strange things to my insides. Strange things that make me even more aware of myself and the fact that this is a male and I am female .

“Not exactly lost,” he replies, his gaze flicking back to mine, a spark of something unreadable there in those eyes. “More like…drawn in.”

“Drawn in?” I echo, trying to ignore the way my heart does something strange at his words. “By what? The scenery? The smell of ooga dung?”

He smiles then, a slow, predatory curve of his lips that sends a shiver down my spine. “Something like that,” he says, his voice a low purr. “Something…unique.”

I glance up at him, dividing my focus as I continue working on his foot. Is he…flirting with me?

There’s a part of me, a small, foolish part, that wonders if he sees me the same way Catherine and Eleanor’s mates saw them—as a potential mate, a solution to his loneliness. But that path…it leads to a place I’ve sworn never to go again. If he thinks sweet talkin’ is going to get me rattled, he’s setting himself up for a whole heap of disappointment. I might not have much, but this girl’s got a PhD in deciphering male BS. Years of bad dates, broken promises, and enough smooth-talking heartbreakers to fill a galaxy have taught me one valuable lesson: trust your gut, not their honeyed words.

“Isn’t it all just the same thing out here?” I peer at his foot. “Tall orange grass, pink sky, and silence? What’s there that’s unique?”

He grunts. “There is much.” I glance at him and he continues.

“Truth is, human, I was surveying the terrain before you found me wounded in that zimi bush.”

“Surveying?” I echo. “Are you some kind of real estate agent? Looking for a prime piece of property?”

His lips twitch, and for a split second, I think he’s going to smile. But then it all closes off, as if he’s retreated to some far-off corner of his mind.

“Something like that,” he murmurs, his attention for the first time shifting to the wound I’m treating. Silence envelops us and soon I can feel those eyes on me again, watching, assessing.

And that’s when I realize…I’m not just patching up a wounded alien. I’m being…studied.

Donna dear, what have you gotten yourself into?

I try to ignore it. Just patch him up and send him on his way, Donna . So I focus on cleaning out the wound. I have a stack of bloody gauze by my side that would make any normal citizen queasy, but the bleeding has finally slowed down.

“You’re lucky it missed any major tendons,” I say, my voice taking on its professional tone as I pack the wound with more gauze. “But it’s gonna need stitches. A lot of stitches.” I meet his gaze. “And I don’t have the equipment for that out here. So, unless you’ve got some kind of magical alien healing mojo up your sleeve, we need to get you to a real doctor.”

“No!” It’s not a shout, more like a sudden utterance, one that has me pausing, going still as I blink at him. “No medics,” he says.

The force of his denial vibrates through the air, a stark contrast to his previous playfulness. A stronger wave of unease washes over me, cold against the day’s warmth.

“No medics,” he repeats, softer this time, his gaze dropping to where I’m holding the antiseptic gauze. “Please.”

I swallow, my hand hovering over his foot. “Okay,” I say slowly, really darn happy my voice is steady because my heart ain’t. “No medics.”

But he’s observant, or, at the very least, he can read my apprehension.

“It’s…complicated,” he says finally, so low I almost don’t hear it.

Complicated. Mmhm.

He’s a fugitive, isn’t he.

A criminal.

I wouldn’t be frickin’ surprised. I found him hiding in a bush . I’m suddenly three times happy that I called Catherine and told her of his arrival.

There’s a lump in my throat as I continue working, feigning control even as my mind races.

If he is a criminal, I sure as hell need him to leave. Maybe I need to set Gertrude on him, have the oogas chase him from my land.

With a sigh, I say, “Alright.” I’m not going to push for information I might not need to know. When the alien FBI scours down this place I can say I’m just an innocent bystander. “I’ll wrap the wound, but you’ll still need to see someone who can patch it up properly.”

I don’t meet his gaze now, because I’m sure he’ll see everything I’m thinking in my eyes. The air surrounding us seems to have changed too. Filled with uncertainty and potential danger.

“It isn’t what you think,” he suddenly says, shifting in the chair and leaning forward the moment I remove the gauze from the wound and wrap his foot tight. He’s close enough now that I can see the slight shimmer in his scales.

“Hmm?” I glance at him, feigning ignorance. My acting skills are totally up to par for when the authorities come knocking. “What’s that?”

He grunts, a soft laugh brushing through his nose. So…maybe my acting isn’t really that great. “It isn’t what you think,” he says again.

“What do you mean? What isn’t what I think?” I don’t know what he’s talking about, remember?

“To call a medic all the way out here will waste a hefty block of credits.”

My gaze shifts to him now.

Is he…broke? Is that it? Has this warrior, this proud alien, fallen on hard times? The thought, as unexpected as it is unsettling, stirs a strange mix of sympathy and apprehension within me. To not want to spend money, even when there’s a massive hole in your foot, must be some kind of sacrifice.

I almost do a Hail Mary. May such hard times never find me.

Especially not on a planet where I probably have no employable skills. Lord knows I haven’t earned one credit yet that could buy a decent cup of coffee, let alone afford alien healthcare. I’ve been living off the funds New Horizons gifted me. I shudder, picturing myself bartering bluebread for a tetanus shot. No, ma’am, not gonna happen. This alien’s just proof I have to get this farm up and bringing money in soon. Financial stability is a must-have, not a nice-to-have.

But it’s not like I don’t understand. If healthcare here is anything like it was back home, without a solid insurance plan things can get tough. So, I nod, setting the alien’s foot down on the box as I stand. I’ve done about all I can do to help him now. I can only leave him with a prayer and hope he accepts the debt and actually goes to a medic on his own time.

“Well, that’s all done now,” I say, gathering up the scattered supplies. I avoid his gaze, focusing on the task, suddenly hyper-aware of the quiet intimacy of my little cottage, the scent of antiseptic mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly cut grass.

“I don’t know how you’ll manage to get to the town on it,” I continue, annoyed that my voice has gone a bit breathless, “but you’re welcome to rest here for a few hours until you can call a friend or someone to pick you up.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by an ooga baying in the field. I glance at him, expecting a grateful nod, a plan of action. Instead, I find him watching me, his gaze intense, those yellow eyes boring into me like they can see right through my skin, my bones, into the very heart of me.

I busy myself cleaning up the mess, my movements a bit too brisk now, a bit too frantic. I need space. Need to breathe. Need to process this whole bizarre encounter before it turns my carefully ordered world upside down.

Turning to head back inside, I’m suddenly eager to put some distance between us, to escape the intensity of his gaze, the unsettling questions swirling in my mind. But just as I reach the door, he speaks, his voice a low rumble that seems to stop time itself.

“Thank you.” I don’t know why those two words hold me frozen. Why I can’t move. “For everything. You did not need to help me…but you did. You saw me…not as other but as a being in need.”

My hand freezes on the doorknob and I turn slowly, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

His words strike a chord within me, a chord that resonates with the echoes of my own past, my own experiences of being judged, of being dismissed for simple things like the color of my skin or the kinks in my hair. And then to be taken from the only world I knew simply for the purpose of being used, abused, thrown away. As if I wasn’t a person, a being, but a thing .

I swallow the lump that rises in my throat, the urge to confess, to tell him that I, too, know what it’s like to be seen as “other,” to be feared for what I am, not who I am. But the words remain trapped behind my lips.

“It’s…no big deal,” I manage, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. “Like I said, we humans…we tend to look out for each other.”

I say that even though he’s not one of my kind, hoping he understands it extends to other beings, not just us. But it’s a lie, of course. I’d been alone on Earth for far too long to believe in the inherent goodness of humanity. Seen too much. Saw the results of some of the worst parts of humanity back in the emergency room. But something about this alien, this wounded warrior with a heart that beats beneath those iridescent scales…makes me want to hang on to the ideal.

I give him a ghost of a smile as I open the door and step into my cottage. Closing it behind me, I lean against it and release a slow breath, the weight of his presence, his words, settling over me like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon.

My hand trembles as I slide the bolt home, a flimsy barrier against the unknown. He’s out there, on my porch, wounded, alone.

I close my eyes, pressing my forehead into my palm. For a moment, the scent of the sweet blossoms by my door fills the air and there’s a sudden, unexpected ache for a garden a million light-years away.

But then, a low groan, muffled by the thin walls, brings me back to the present, to the alien warrior on my porch, to the storm that’s gathering on the horizon. And as I turn towards the sound, a sense of inevitability settles over me, a certainty that this day, this encounter, is about to change everything.