Well. I could bloody well show him. Starting now.

“OK. Well. It is right, for the record. I love hugs. Always have. And you can hug me any time you damn well please,” I told him, closing the last little bit of space between us. I sighed and leaned against him, turning my tear-dampened cheek to his chest, and wrapped my arms around his back. “This is a hug.”

Silar’s body was taut as the skin of a drum. His heart slammed beneath my cheek, like it was trying to run right out of his chest and reach me. A shudder rolled through him, and suddenly his arms were around me again, thankfully with less of that bone-crunching desperation this time.

A little sob hiccupped up out of my throat as I buried my face against him, breathing in his unique scent of dust and sun and Silar. That fragrance grounded me. His warm skin soothed me. And when his hands began to roam along my back, I sighed into the sensation.

One of his hands came up to cradle the back of my head, stroking my hair in stiff, patting motions that became more fluid and natural every moment.

Mama used to brush my hair. No one else had touched it since she’d died. My scalp sang, my neck tingling, and I had to fight hard not to start crying all over again. Because I was sure that if I did, Silar would end the hug in a big panicky huff that he’d done something wrong.

But he hadn’t.

In fact, in that moment, I couldn’t think of anything more right. Being here, with him. Letting him hold me this way.

The moment had to end. Of course it did. But when it ended, it wasn’t because of anything Silar or I did or said.

It was because of Fallon.

“Hello?” his voice boomed from what sounded like directly outside the bedroom door. I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin, and Silar gave a low growl and tightened his hold on me in response.

“Is everything alright in there?” Fallon called through the door, oblivious to the rigid set of Silar’s torso, the furious white burn of his eyes. “Silar, if you are examining your wife for injuries, I should like to know the results!”

“I bet you would,” Silar hissed, glaring at the door.

“Of course I would!” Fallon continued, innocent and undaunted. “You know that I was worried! Cherry,” he said then, apparently switching tactics. “I apologize for what happened. I take full responsibility. I did not even know you were here yet and-”

“Fallon.” Silar’s voice dripped with venomous warning. “We talked about this. Sit down. Shut up.”

“Did you talk about this before or after you wrapped your tail around his throat?” I said, the words muffled against the muscled expanse of his chest. Silar’s hand was still protectively cupping the back of my head and it seemed like he wasn’t planning to let me go anywhere. “And don’t think for a second I believe that ‘It’s a Zabrian greeting!’ bullshit Fallon came up with.”

A tremor went through Silar’s arms. He remained silent so long I thought he wouldn’t answer before he suddenly whispered in a strained voice.

“He could have killed you.”

“His cattle could have,” I corrected him primly. “Pretty sure Fallon didn’t specifically send them on the war path just so they could trample me. Wait…” I paused, my heart swelling up into my throat. “Are you telling me that you almost strangled another man because… because he indirectly almost harmed me?”

“Yes.”

Holy shit.

That… should not have been so hot to me. Especially when the person in question was someone as sweet as Fallon seemed to be.

A sigh worked its way through Silar’s body and he finally let me go.

“I wanted to tell you before,” he said, his vision pulsing white. “I would have told you before the end of the thirty days. I swear it.” His voice went hoarse but his gaze held mine. “Cherry. I am not a good man.”

I snorted at that melodramatic statement.

“Pretty much everything I’ve observed you doing for the past two weeks is in direct contradiction with that statement.”

Silar gaped at me in silence.

“Look. Was it a good idea to nearly choke the living daylights out of what I assume must be our closest neighbour? No. But it was a crazy day. Emotions were running high. You almost watched me die.”

Yeah, still processing that.

“I’ve seen grown men beat the shit out of each other on the factory floor because of less life-or-death situations like love triangles and cheating. But another man inadvertently almost causing the death of someone you lo-” Shit. “-live with,” I amended with a hot flush. “Yeah. I mean. I get why you did it.”

I also kind of liked it. Way too fucking much.

But Silar probably didn’t need to know that.

I gave him a firm pat on his chest, his skin still damp from my drying tears.

“How about we just don’t do any more attempted murder. Deal?”

Silar didn’t say a word. He also didn’t move. Or blink.

“Deal?” I asked again, narrowing my eyes at him. The dude looked like he was going to stroke out on me or something. I wasn’t even sure that he was breathing.

“Silar-”

“That’s it?”

I pursed my lips, my brows coming lower over my eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I tell you that… That I nearly murdered a man in front of you… And you’re not…” He angled his head back slightly, regarding me intently down his nose, as if he needed a little more distance to see me properly. “You are not angry?” His voice cracked. “Or… Or frightened?”

Ah. Shit. He was definitely picking up on my horny glee over this whole thing. Not that I was actually horny or gleeful for Fallon to get hurt. Just over the fact that my stoic, impossible-to-read husband actually cared enough about me that he would cut a bitch to protect me or avenge me. But clearly, I needed to tone it down. Silar was looking at me like I was, well, an alien.

Probably good he doesn’t know about that whole breaking a man’s nose with my cast iron pan situation…

“I’m not angry,” I told him sternly. “I’m… disappointed.”

Like hell I was.

But I guess Silar believed me. My words made that massive wall of a man flinch as if I’d gone ahead and punched him in the gut. Or, you know, did something as innocuous and gentle as put my hands on the man’s shoulder. You could never quite tell with him.

“Come on,” I said, giving him a smile. “Let’s go. I think Fallon’s head will explode if we don’t reappear soon.”

22CHERRY

Fallon’s head was still very much intact when we re-emerged. He’d also eaten all his sausages and was eyeing the other plate with a slightly hilarious look of longing in his eyes. I started to push the other plate towards him when Silar slammed his hand down on the table, slid the plate back to me and said, “That’s my wife’s.”

“It was actually your portion, but you didn’t seem that interested in eating it,” I told Silar as I sat down in the chair across from Fallon. “Hi, Fallon. I feel like we didn’t get a proper introduction before. I’m Cherry.”

I stuck out my hand. Like an idiot.

What was it with me and constantly trying to shake these alien men’s hands?

Fallon stared at my hand like it was a puzzle to be solved. Then, he stuck out his hand exactly opposite mine, like a mirror image. We couldn’t exactly shake hands like that, so I bumped the back of my hand against his palm in a wonky high five and then retreated.

Now that my hand was no longer confusing him, his gaze returned to my face. And stayed there.

So did his dreamy grin.

I kind of got the impression that he was using my features as a sort of stand-in to imagine his own future wife. And I couldn’t even be mad about it. The guy just seemed so fucking excited.

He was so different from Silar. Fallon was chatty and smiley, sitting across from me like a friend while my husband stood beside the table, glowering down at us like some kind of Old-Earth gargoyle. A hot, grumpy, golden one.