Ajos: The Restitution - A Sci-fi Alien Romance, Book 1, стр. 23

Oh. Of course, he wasn’t from here. He was from somewhere else, just like she was.

“What’s your planet called?”

Now unladen, he turned to face her. “Tonvuhiri.”

Yet another world she’d never heard of before, although, if some scientist had discovered it, they’d have dubbed it something else anyway.

“So these Tasqal guys destroyed your planet too?”

“No…at least, not yet.”

“So…” Kerena frowned slightly, trying to understand. “Why did you leave?”

Ajos’ mouth formed a thin line once more and his shoulders visibly stiffened.

Damn, was that too much of a personal question?

For a few moments he said nothing, and it seemed as if his gaze wasn’t even focused on her anymore.

“I left,” he finally said, “because I had to.”

Kerena clamped her mouth shut.

There was awkwardness in the air, and she wasn’t going to question him about something that obviously touched a sore spot.

He moved then, stepping around her toward another door that was set in the wall.

The door slid open, and the room lit up.

“This is the room for cleansing.”

Kerena nodded, her gaze following him as he stepped toward the main door to the room. He turned once more, and he frowned at the bed.

A yawn stretched her lips before she could stop it. She really was tired.

Ajos jerked his head. “I will leave you to rest,” he said, his gaze moving over her. “Rest well.”

He was leaving?

Kerena moved forward, and in her sluggishness, she almost stumbled into him.

Her hand grasped his bare arm and Ajos froze.

That thing that ran from his head down his back like a thin, soft fin seemed to pulse.

Kerena swallowed and removed her hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

He didn’t have to do any of this, and she was truly grateful for it.

Ajos jerked his head, but no words came from his lips, and with that, he stepped out of the room.

As the door slid closed behind him, Ajos took a few steps down the corridor before leaning his head against the wall.

What the qef was he doing?

This was more than an urge to fix what he had failed to do in the past.

This wasn’t about penance.

He’d brought the female into his space and why?

Because he felt sorry for what had happened to her people? Or was it that he felt sorry for her, specifically?

While he’d carried her to the bunker, the walk had been almost painful.

It was clear she felt safe with him.

Would she feel so safe if she knew that he’d failed to protect someone and it had cost them their life?

He’d never get Nama back, and for that, he had no right to lay claim over this female when he’d failed at the basic duty of every Shum’ai male that ever lived.

Ajos stiffened at that thought.

Claim?

He wasn’t thinking of laying claim on anyone.

But even as he thought this, he couldn’t deny that the walk to the bunker had been painful for another reason.

His nefre kept pulsing, and every movement of the female in his arms had sent tingles straight to his genital pouch.

He could feel the blood causing the area to throb even now. That touch she’d landed on his arm had caused a fresh wave of pulses.

Ajos groaned, his hands fisting at his sides as he tried to control the confusing feelings.

A shadow fell at the end of the corridor to the sleeping quarters, and Ajos looked up to see V’Alen standing there.

Pushing himself off the wall, he composed his features and walked forward.

Brushing past V’Alen without a word, he headed toward the door.

“Brother?” V’Alen’s voice stopped him, and Ajos clenched his fists.

“What is it, V’Alen?”

He knew his comrade was about to speak some revelation that he didn’t want to hear, and that only made him tense more.

For a being that had no emotions, V’Alen sure as qef knew how to identify them in others.

“Your nefre,” was all V’Alen said.

“What about it?” Ajos frowned and turned to look at his ally.

He wasn’t in the mood to chat about his body parts right now—especially when it seemed like he was losing control of them.

“It is not the same color as it used to be.” V’Alen angled his head.

Ajos’ frown deepened, his entire being stiffening. “What do you mean?”

“It is turning…red.”

Ajos blanched.

Impossible.

“What?” He reached a hand back to touch the soft fin that ran down his back.

It moved against his hand as his fingers brushed against it.

“Your nefre,” V’Alen repeated, “is red.” His friend blinked. “Are you ill?”

No. No, he was not, but it would be better if that was the case because the alternative was much worse.

“Brother?” V’Alen asked, his eyes flashing. “I will contact Aker. He will—”

“No, that will not be necessary.” Ajos gulped. “I just need some fresh air.”

Before V’Alen could say another word, Ajos stepped out the door and away from the bunker.

He couldn’t tell V’Alen what the change in his nefre meant.

He couldn’t tell him because he didn’t want to believe it himself.