Aarya lay still.
The air around her shimmered faintly from the aftershock of her power surge, like the surface of disturbed water catching moonlight. Her breath came fast, but not just from panic now.
There was something else.
Something confusing.
The sensation of his touch still lingered—large, rough-skinned palms that had cupped her gently, as if afraid she might shatter. The memory of it burned into her skin, even though his hands were no longer on her.
She had never been touched like that before.
Not by a man.
She blinked against the sting in her eyes, trying to sit up. The damp fabric of her clothing clung to her awkwardly, and she clutched it to herself, feeling her pulse throbbing where his hand had rested just moments ago.
He was crouched a little distance away, his strong body tense, as if afraid she might flare again. But his eyes—bright and strange—remained on her with such intensity that she could barely breathe.
Not lewd. Not cruel.
Just... awed. Gentle.
Aarya had always been alone. She had grown up watching from behind glass walls of a lab—her emotions neatly filed away, her physicality barely acknowledged. The men she worked with had always looked at her as either a colleague or a curiosity. Never this.
Never like this.
He had peeled away her soaked, sticky clothes not with desire, but concern.
And yet, somehow... his hands had awoken something raw inside her.
Is this what touch is supposed to feel like?
His fingertips had brushed her skin like moss over water, foreign but reverent. His palm had lingered a second too long on the swell of her waist, before recoiling like he'd seen something too sacred to bear.
And in that moment, something inside her had fluttered—low in her belly, curling through her like an ache. A part of her that had only lived in theoretical daydreams now trembled, wide-eyed and alive.
She pressed her thighs together, shivering.
She hadn't meant to feel this. Not now. Not here. But her body didn't know logic like her mind did.
This planet had unlocked something primal.
And his touch… even though innocent, had lit it aflame.
From where he knelt, he tilted his head slightly. "You're not from here," he said slowly, in his strange tongue. Her pendant crackled faintly, translating the intent, not just the words. "You… feel different. Your body is soft like fruit. And your eyes… they look scared, but shining."
Aarya's lips parted. She didn't know what to say.
He slowly reached for her again—not to restrain, but to offer a thick leaf filled with water.
But as his fingers brushed hers, she felt it again.
That warmth. That strange, echoing pulse.
Her chest tightened.
Her skin remembered.
She accepted the water, but their fingers touched for a breath too long.
She closed her eyes.
It wasn't desire. Not yet. Not in the way she'd once read in books.
It was awareness.
It was her body humming like a tuning fork struck by something ancient, something forbidden.
Kiran's hands trembled.
He didn't know why.
His kind did not tremble—not in the face of war, nor pain, nor death. But here he was, crouched before a too-small body with foreign softness and an inexplicable scent, with his hands half-raised and hesitant. The creature lay still, her skin glistening with a fevered sheen. Whatever had paralyzed her was slowly wearing off, and her breath had become steady again. But she hadn't spoken since. Just watched him. Those impossibly deep, dark eyes full of something he couldn't name.
He swallowed.
He'd seen wounded warriors. He'd seen infants malformed by birthrifts. But this… this small being was unlike anything.
And her body…
It had curves. Not the swollen mutations of disease, but subtle, symmetrical arcs. Delicate joints. Narrow wrists. The texture of her skin was different from his—thinner, more vulnerable, but it called to something primal in him. A need to shelter. Protect. Claim.
He hated that he couldn't understand it.
He hated more that he wanted to.
"She is disfigured," he muttered under his breath, gently pulling a piece of the outer cloth from her trembling form, his eyes refusing to linger. "That must be it. Some mutation. Poor thing."
Aarya bit her lower lip, her throat thick with panic.
He thinks I'm deformed.
It should have made her feel safer—that he didn't recognize her as a female. That he was treating her as something neutral, pitiable. But his hands… his touch… they weren't cold. They weren't clinical. They lingered too long at her waist. Brushed too gently near the curves of her hips. He was confused. But not repulsed.
She squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach twisted with a terrible ache.
Hunger. Fear. Need.
She had never been touched like this.
But this alien warrior…
He touched her as if she was breakable. As if she mattered.
His fingers brushed her thigh to check for wounds, and she shuddered.
Heat burst from her skin.
A soft gasp escaped her lips.
Kiran froze.
His glowing eyes snapped to hers. Their gazes locked—and the space between them tightened into something invisible but unbearably thick. The forest went quiet around them, the rustling leaves and alien birds stilled as if watching.
"I'm sorry," he said gruffly, withdrawing his hand. "I didn't mean to…"
But her body betrayed her.
A ripple of light pulsed from her chest. Barely visible, like heatwaves off a summer road. The pendant on her collar sparked and blinked erratically.
And then—something snapped.
A surge of energy exploded outward from her core, knocking over a few nearby vines. The air thickened with the strange scent of jasmine and something wilder. Something primal.
She gasped again, this time louder. The pendant's display flared: Unknown Energy Signature Detected. Neural Overload Stabilizing…
Kiran stumbled back a step, eyes wide. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he felt it—deep in his bones.
A call.
A pull.
A claim.
He looked at her. And suddenly, she didn't seem deformed. She seemed powerful.
He breathed in, nostrils flaring, his warrior instincts clashing with emotions he had no words for. Possessiveness. Awe. Hunger.
And something terrifyingly close to worship.
Aarya couldn't speak. Her lips parted, but the weight of sensation and the burst of power had left her mute. She stared at him, heart hammering. Her skin tingled from his touch. Her limbs felt like fire and silk and something ancient awakening inside her veins.
Why did his hands feel like they belonged there?
Why did her body react like it had waited lifetimes for this one moment?
The silence stretched. The sky above them had turned dusky. The alien moon, huge and burning blue, was rising behind the trees.
"I should not have touched you," Kiran said finally, voice hoarse. "But I couldn't… I had to make sure you were safe."
He moved to stand, but her fingers reached out. Trembled. Clutched his wrist.
His skin was warm. Rough. And yet his veins glowed faintly with that electric blue light.
She whispered, "Please… don't leave me."
Her voice—soft, melodic, almost broken—pierced through his chest.
Kiran dropped to one knee again, his breath shallow. He stared at her hand on his.
He didn't understand this creature.
But he would burn the forest down before letting anything harm her.
He would carry her to the ends of the stars if that's what she needed.
He didn't know her name.
But already, he could feel it.
She would ruin him.
And he would let her.
_______________________________________