Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

M yrria stood in the doorway, shocked to see her daughter talking with the alien. Hadn't she specifically told Zala not to bother the Dothvek?

She rushed forward and took Zala by the arm, shooting an apologetic look toward Rixx. "I am so sorry she disturbed you."

The massive alien pushed himself to his feet, swaying for a beat before gaining his balance and straightening to his full height. "You have nothing to be sorry for and neither does Zala. She was keeping me company."

Myrria hesitated, her gaze unwillingly drawn to his muscular, bare chest and then pulled lower to the ridges that formed a vee and disappeared beneath the waistband of the leather pants that were hanging in tatters and exposing most of his legs. Her pulse spiked, and her mouth went dry as she forced herself to look away. "She was told not to bother you. You need your rest."

"I have had plenty of rest, and she was not bothering me."

Zala peered at her mother with a hint of a smug smile teasing her lips. Myrria frowned at her. It didn't matter than the Dothvek was fine with her talking to him. That did not mean that Myrria approved. It wasn't just the Dothvek she was protecting. Even though her instinct told her that Rixx was safe, he was also a huge, male warrior.

The little Myrria knew about the Dothveks were that they came from a desert planet and had taken to the skies with some female bounty hunters. Before that, they had been sand dwellers who had lived primitively. Even now, they didn't wear the typical uniforms chosen by space travelers. Rixx's animal skin pants were barely hanging on his waist, a situation she would have to remedy if he was going to be standing and walking around her house.

She gave Zala a final quelling look before turning her attention to the Dothvek. "If you are well enough to stand and move about, we will have to set some rules."

He nodded solemnly. "This is your home, and I am grateful for your care. I will abide by any rules you set."

Myrria slid her daughter a look as if to say, even the big warrior can follow rules. Zala looked away, but Myrria was certain she could sense the rolling of eyes.

Myrria released her daughter and hooked the curtains so that the arched doorway was open to the main room. Then she crossed to the scrubbed, wooden table and dropped her cloth bag onto it. The fabric sagged, and an onion rolled out and came to a stop beside the bowl of bruised fruit in the center. "The first rule is that you must wear clothing that is not damaged and tainted with smoke."

Rixx glanced at his ripped pants and the gold of his cheeks darkened. "They did not survive as well as I did."

"You looked as bad as those pants when we found you," Zala said before Myrria shot her a look.

Rixx laughed, the low sound warm and rumbling as it filled every corner of the small home. Myrria couldn't help but smile with him.

"I have made you some pants to wear." She strode to a small worktable in the corner and plucked a pile of dark fabric from the various swaths of material strewn across it. "I measured you while you were sleeping, so they should fit."

As soon as those words left her lips, Rixx's eyebrows lifted and Myrria's face burned. What a scandalous thing to admit, she thought. But how was she supposed to sew him a pair of pants without taking basic measurements?

"You are as clever as you are kind," he said, diffusing her embarrassment as he slowly walked toward her.

Myrria kept her gaze locked onto his face as it was impossible not to notice every leather-encased bulge as he moved. She only hoped she'd allowed enough room in the crotch of the pants she'd made. It would be mortifying if she had to remake them to fit his noticeably impressive size.

She thrust the pants at Rixx before he reached her. "It was nothing. I'm a seamstress by trade, although I don't usually make clothes for males."

"Mama sews beautiful dresses for the painted ladies at the fancy houses," Zala said, her voice brimming with pride.

Again, Myrria's cheeks warmed. He probably didn't know what any of that meant if he wasn't from Kurril, and she knew there was no shame in doing honest labor, even if it was for the prostitutes in the pleasure houses. She was proud of her work and the elaborate dresses she made for the working girls. She was also proud to call many of the girls and the madam of the houses her friends. Then why did everything seem to make her blush around Rixx?

"I am sure they are the best-dressed fancy ladies on the entire planet," Rixx said without a hint of mockery. Then he glanced at the dark pants in his hands. "But I am grateful you made my pants unfancy."

Zala giggled at this, perhaps imagining the bulky alien covered in the sheer, colorful fabrics used for the painted ladies. Myrria turned to her, flapping her hands. "Let's let our guest change clothes while we work on dinner."

Zala sighed, cutting a glance at the ingredients spilling from the shopping bag. "I hope you like stew."

"Stew is one of my favorite things," Rixx said.

"Good," Zala mumbled. "We eat a lot of stew."

"If you want, I can show you how to make Dothvek stew one day."

Zala's eyes brightened, the prospect of stew apparantly sounding much more interesting. "I've never had Dothvek stew."

Myrria watched Rixx smile at her daughter, and a pang of longing seized her heart. It had been a long time since she'd seen her daughter smile like this and even longer since any male had shown her kindness. Zala had barely known her father when he'd left, and Kurril wasn't the kind of place where you trusted strange males. You were safer not even making eye contact. But now Zala was practically humming with excitement as the Dothvek described the taste of stew on his home world.

Myrria shook her head brusquely as she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. It didn't matter how kind or how handsome the alien was, he would be returning to his ship. He would not stay, so there was no point in getting attached or daydreaming about a life in which she and Zala shared a happy home with him. Even if she hadn't still been married, it would have been an absurd dream. And Kurril was not the place where dreams came true. Not for a single mother with a long-missing husband.

Myrria had given up on happiness long ago, she reminded herself as she pulled the curtain closed, her breath hitching in her throat as she caught a glimpse of him dropping his pants before the fabric fell completely. Gods of old, she'd never seen an ass as fine as that one, she thought, as she pivoted around and caught Zala smirking at her.