“Is that why you’ve hidden yourselves from humans?”
“Partly. But this isn’t just because you’re human, Lyra. It’s because you’re… you. Because you’re clever and fierce, and more dangerous than anything so fragile has a right to be. And because you want me, too. That’s not… I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
Her fingers stilled their idle path along his collar bone. “You said you’ve had other… partners. Are you telling me—”
“No. No. They came willingly. But it wasn’t for wanting me. I could have been any Scaeven, and served their needs just as well. They only wanted the toxin. The rush.” He shrugged. “When they’d had their satisfaction, and the intoxication lifted, they had no lingering desire. Some stayed longer than others—but purely for additional helpings of the toxin. Not because of me.”
Lyra regarded him sadly. “That can’t be true.”
He smiled at her kindness. “Look at me, Lyra.”
“I am.”
The heat in her gaze had his pulse quickening. He stared at her warm, colorful beauty, her lush softness, and wondered what she could desire in the cold, hard, monochrome of his brutish body.
“I think you are a special case—even among humans, probably.”
“I doubt it. You are very striking.”
“Striking, perhaps. But humans do not generally find things like me beautiful.”
“Like what?”
“Colorless. Harsh. Overly large.”
She traced her fingers down the inside of his forearm. Lines of heat trailed in the wake of her touch.
“There are many things like you that humans find beautiful.” She took his massive hand in her little ones, tracing along his tendons. “Thunder storms.” She turned his hand over, traced the creases in his palm. “Winter.” She lifted his hand to her cheek. “Mountains.” She turned and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm.
The feel of it shot straight to his groin. He shuddered at the violent flare of desire. “You can’t fuck a mountain,” he said hoarsely.
Her vivid eyes met his, alight with a wicked smile. “I can try.”
She sucked his middle finger into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue teased the length of the digit, and he felt an echo of that touch along his cock. He groaned, his head falling back against the bed.
“Lyra,” he whispered hoarsely.
She slid her closed lips up the length of his finger, biting the tip before releasing him. Her eyes met his, and she kissed his knuckles. “This human finds you very beautiful.”
He stared at her—so painfully in love that the feeling of it was crushing his chest. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Human men must fall at your feet.”
Lyra laughed as if he’d told a wonderful joke.
Asier frowned at her.
“You frown too much.” She reached up to stroke her thumb across his bottom lip. He felt the frown soften.
“They should. You are exquisite.”
Lyra shrugged. “Not by human standards.”
Asier frowned—again. That couldn’t be possible. “You’re being falsely modest.”
She stroked her thumb across his lip again. “No. I’m not hideous. But, by human beauty standards, I’m overly tall, too pale, and I’m getting old.”
She was absurdly short, but he did not tell her so. And the glow of her peachy white skin was more beautiful than silk and pearls. But old?
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two,” she muttered.
He blinked at her.
“In Earth Standard years,” she added.
Earth standard years… he did the math in his head, converting to Scaeven solars. A sudden laugh guffawed out of him. “That’s not old. You’re still in your child-bearing years.”
She shrugged.
“In Earth Standard years, I’m ninety-seven.”
She gaped at him.
“My father is…” he took a second to do the math. “Two hundred and forty. My grandfather lived to Four hundred and twelve.”
“Is that normal?”
“For Scaevens? Yes.” And for their mates—but he would refrain from telling her until it became apparent that she would need to know. The viral agent in his semen didn’t just affect her reproductive processes. Bearing his child would alter her on a fundamental level. She’d still be a soft-skinned, fragile, little human. But her lifespan would match his. She’d heal more quickly from injuries. She’d need less sleep, though still more than a Scaeven did. Her appetite would increase significantly—the caloric demands of those improvements would require her to double her normal nutritional intake.
He looked forward to when he would have to worry less about her fragility.
“I must be like a mayfly to you.”
“I don’t know what a ‘mayfly’ is.”
“They’re a type of insect on Earth. They hatch, mate, and die all in the same day.”
“Would you want to live longer, if you could?” he asked cautiously.
“Of course,” Lyra answered easily. “Who wouldn’t? To have a four-hundred year lifespan? The things you could see in a lifetime…the things you could do…” she trailed off into a tense silence.
“What is it?” Asier asked.
“Even if we could be together, I won’t live more than ninety more years. Humans generally cap out around a hundred and twenty. And in the next twenty years, I’ll start aging a lot more, and then I’ll start to look truly old. You’ll probably be in your prime for another couple centuries.”
Asier swallowed the urge to soothe her with promises of longevity. Not until he got a bioscan confirming her pregnancy.
“It’s just as well, I suppose,” Lyra went on, contemplative. “I have to go home anyway. The university will have informed my sister that our vessel was hijacked and the crew abducted. I’m probably presumed dead. The sooner I can get back to her, the better.”
Asier’s heart curled in on itself. “Tell me about her,” he said, loathing himself.
He felt her smile against his skin. “Sofie. She’s the smartest, sweetest, best person in the known universe. I raised her, after my father died. Technically, she’s my half-sister. I didn’t even know she existed until the Gaia Colony Council sent me a summons to collect the remains of my father’s estate. She was ten years old when she came to live with me. I had to resign my military commission. I got a job as a navigator on a research vessel that allowed employees’ families to reside onboard. It was slow, boring work, but it was worth it to be there for Sofie. To watch her grow up.”
She was silent for a moment, likely pondering on her sister.
After a moment, she asked, “Do you have siblings?”
“No. Scaeven reproduction is… complicated. Even with compatible species there’s some biological manipulation that needs to happen. Most Scaevens are only children. Siblings are so rare as to become somewhat famous when they do happen.”
“You said there are no female Scaevens?”
Asier nodded.
“What was your mother like?”
“She was very gentle, very quiet. She died ten solars ago.”