Five

As we settle into married life together, Ajax puts considerable effort toward learning English and by the end of the first week, he’s mastered simple phrases. Not enough to tell me the contents of his heart, but I have decided it’s better if we don’t talk about stuff outside of the utilitarian.

After all, this is possibly temporary anyway. If and when Malcolm comes sniffing around, he’ll get to have a conversation with my husband that will reset his thinking about whether he should poke a toe over the Olympia city limit line again. The restraining order will only do me good once Malcolm breaks it, but at that point, he’d be close enough to me that he could and probably would do something irreversible. Ajax is my insurance policy against that.

Plus, he’s pretty to look at and opens pickle jars without breaking a sweat. This is a great side benefit to having a live-in bodyguard. I wish I could say that’s enough. It should be enough. It doesn’t seem to be, for either of us.

Sometimes I catch Ajax watching me when he thinks I’m not paying attention, usually when I’m working. I sense that he’s not entirely happy with the status quo either. There’s something vibrating between us just under the surface and I want to ask him if he feels it too. If he wants to explore it like I do.

But that would require…more. Something that neither of us seem to know how to get, which makes it all the more difficult that we’re around each other all day since I work from home. Whatever is going on puts us in a holding pattern until Penelope calls and asks if we’d like to get together with her and her husband and Clem and Ares on Friday. It’s a welcome lifeline, one I should have initiated for my alien instead of waiting around for someone else to do the heavy lifting.

I don’t even ask Ajax. I’m sure he’ll want to hang out with his friends as much as I want to see mine. I tell him that we’re going to a party on Friday and he rewards me with one of his smiles, which I definitely haven’t seen enough of lately.

Friday can’t get here fast enough, which makes the week drag. Every night, I lay in my bed and strain to catch the sound of Ajax breathing from the living room. Sometimes I think I can hear him, but it doesn’t ease the loneliness that plagues me.

I have a perfectly functional husband living in my house and I barely speak to him. He’s laid down the law that we’re going to be virtual strangers. By necessity, I realize, and it’s comforting in a way. But none of that makes it any easier to be alone.

Penelope lives on the second floor of a Victorian house near the water. The hair salon she owns takes up the whole lower floor. One nice thing about Olympia is that it never takes more than ten or fifteen minutes to get anywhere in the city. On Friday, I drive to her house and Ajax and I take the outside stairs to her front door. Within seconds, I’m engulfed in a group of laughing women and stoic males who tower over us.

As I move into Penelope’s living room, Ajax follows me, a hulking, reassuring presence under most circumstances. I resist the urge to tell him to go play with his friends.

“I’m fine,” I murmur. “You don’t have to be my bodyguard tonight. Relax.”

“Keep Brooklyn safe,” he says as if I’ve forgotten he has a job, which is no less than I expect.

“You do. You are. But you don’t have to be two feet from me all night to make that happen.” In fact, I would prefer that he not stick to me like glue. Perhaps if he spends some time in the company of his own people, it will remove the tension from between us. “Go on. There are two other Torvians to back you up if anything threatens me.”

Ajax eyes Ares and Penelope’s husband, Eros, thoughtfully and drifts off to engage in a rumbly conversation that gets all three men—aliens—animated.

“If only they were talking about sports,” Clem says wryly. “But I have a feeling they’re complaining about Earth food.”

“What’s wrong with Earth food?” I ask with genuine curiosity, though these are the things I yearn for Ajax to tell me. Hearing it secondhand isn’t the same, and Clem’s making a huge assumption that whatever opinions one Torvian holds about Earth transfers to the others.

“Eros says it’s bland,” Penelope offers. “He likes Indian food better than most of what I cook, but he can’t put enough red chili sauce on it to make it taste like anything. According to him, that is.”

Clem nods. “Torvis is a lot like Earth but bigger and bolder.”

That makes sense given the males it produces. “Do they like everything bigger and bolder then?”

With a snicker, Clem levels a hand at Penelope’s expanding waistline. “Exhibit A. I think that speaks for itself. Since I don’t want to end up like that, I’m constantly having to rein Ares in.”

I blush as Penelope laughs. “Yes, Eros has super sperm all right. He was pretty hands-on right off the bat too.”

“That’s, um, really not what I meant.”

But if Eros and Ares are both big and bold in the romance department, what’s wrong with my alien? I mean, I know he’s afraid of breaking me, but we can still talk. Have fun together. I’m starting to wonder if Ajax is just not attracted to me. Which is a good thing! I mean, I don’t want him to be hands on, or at least not really. It would be nice if I didn’t feel like we were tiptoeing around each other though. And maybe if I didn’t have to constantly stay on guard so I don’t lay a stray hand on his shoulder.

Ugh, what is wrong with me? I like that our relationship is more professional. I do not like that I have to keep reminding myself of that.

Penelope excuses herself to pass out drinks and I’m at loose ends, so I follow her intending to ask her if I can help. The three large Torvians are between me and the kitchen and while Penelope threads right through the middle of them as if it’s no big thing, I have to skirt the group so I don’t I accidentally brush up against Ajax. Which is dumb and maybe a little petty because I’m sure he didn’t mean it was too much for him if I’m forced to squeeze past him in tight quarters.

Regardless, I’m trying to follow the rules we’ve set out. No touching.

Ajax watches me as I pass by with at least six inches to spare. Except there’s this area rug almost hidden beneath the edge of Penelope’s couch, and because I’m watching him from the corner of my eye and not paying attention to where I’m going, I trip over it. Before I even register falling, Ajax’s hand shoots out to catch me. His grip bites into my arm and pain knifes through me to the bone.

I might have cried out, but blackness swims through my vision and I’m not sure. All I know is that my arm hurts. I can’t move it or the pain increases ten-fold. A dull roar bleeds through my consciousness and I think I must have vertigo because the room goes sideways, but then I feel something soft with a lot of give under my cheek. A pillow. Somehow I’m lying down on the couch.

The nicest sense of calm floats through me. Then there’s warmth for an eternity. I float along in a lazy river the temperature of bath water and it’s lovely. The pain fades until it vanishes completely.

I blink as my vision clears. Ares is kneeling by my side, his hands wrapped around my arm. He lets go and tilts my chin with his thumb to angle my head, his gaze evaluating me with a continual sweep.

“You are still in pain?” he asks brusquely.

“Not at all.” I test moving my arm, which works fine, and note five worried faces circling me on the back side of the couch. “What happened?”

“You started to fall and Ajax caught you,” Ares says. “Unfortunately, he accidentally broke a bone in your arm.”

Oh, my God.

My gaze flits to Ajax and he immediately looks away, but not before I see an enormous amount of guilt etched into his expression. I’d like to say this is my first foray into domestic violence but it’s not. I’d also like to say it’s the first time I’ve steered clear of the emergency room after being hurt, but again…not my first rodeo. It is, however, the first time I’ve seen evidence of remorse in the person who hurt me.

“Wait. He broke my arm?” My voice squeaks a little as I sit up. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It couldn’t possibly be broken.”

“Ares could see that it was broken when he touched you,” Clem explains without explaining anything at all and then zips her lips so fast she catches a hank of blond hair in her mouth that she has to spit out.

“Oh, of course. Penelope has an X-ray machine hiding under her couch?” I joke because obviously there is supposed to be something humorous about this situation, though I’m having trouble seeing it.

Clem and Ares glance at each other, their expressions laden with meaning. Ares clears his throat and says, “I have a genetic deformity that gives me the power to heal. It is fortunate that I was in the proximity when you were hurt.”

Ajax flinches and without a lot of fanfare, he backs out of the room. The front door opens and closes with a quiet click. I guess he decided to leave without me, though I have no clue where he plans to go since I drove.

“Oh, man.” Clem bites her lip. “He’s really torn up over hurting you.”

“He is?” I glance at her and then at Ares. It’s clear he agrees with her assessment. “It was an accident.”

Surely Ajax realizes that. This is not like Malcolm at all, who always made it really clear I deserved whatever punishment I received. Never did he hurt me by accident.

As for Ajax, I’m not even upset about it, especially not when there’s a healer in the house who can apparently knit bone back together faster than I could make a cup of tea.

“Yeah, but he’s tried so hard to avoid that,” she counters. “To the point of completely disengaging, even though he came to Earth specifically because he wanted companionship.”

God, I’m slow. Of course that’s why he doesn’t want to talk to me, why he doesn’t want me to touch him lest we fall into a comfortable familiarity that might cause him to accidentally hurt me exactly as he has tonight. The familiar twisting in my chest wrings tight.

This is why we aren’t connecting as fast as I was hoping. He’s deliberately staying aloof.

Yet this is the first I’m hearing that he came to Earth for something more than asylum. That’s crap. I want to hear these things from my own husband, not second hand from the wife of my interpreter. Except my husband is not here. He left instead of sticking around to see if I’m okay. Maybe Clem got it wrong.

“He said that? That he came to Earth for companionship?” I ask.

Clem nods and Ares says, “It is the reason I wished to help him. He seeks something that is impossible for him to find because he cannot forge normal relationships with fragile beings. This is as true on Torvis as it is on Earth, but at least here, he is not employed by the military, so he is content.”

That’s even more crap. Content is not a goal, never mind that it was mine until this second.

I climb off the couch and have to wait a second as the blood resituates in my head. A tiny phantom of pain lingers in my arm but really, it’s fine. “Thank you Penelope for a lovely evening. Sorry we’ve cut it short with all the drama. But I have to go find my husband before something happens to him.”

“Oh, no, of course,” she says hastily. “The last thing any of us need is for a Torvian to attract the attention of the police. Definitely make sure he’s okay.”

I nod and follow Ajax out the door, clatter down the stairs and head toward the water. It’s the most logical place for him to go and it’s where he asked me to walk on our first date. Only date. Perhaps that’s one of the keys I missed. He did ask me to spend time with him and I was so busy worrying about my own limitations in the romance department that I never stopped to consider what he wanted out of this marriage. Or his life, for that matter.

Just because he’s an alien doesn’t mean he doesn’t have dreams. Sure he wants to be safe, just like I do. But that’s not the extent of who we are as people, what we hope for, long for. I’ve let putting one foot in front of the other be my sole focus for far too long.

I haven’t been brave at all.

Squaring my shoulders, I increase my pace and sure enough, I glimpse the broad shoulders of my husband across the street. Even though it’s dark, I can see him standing near the wharf in an out-of-the-way place where he’s not impeding the flow of traffic, his gaze trained on the dark water. The path is lighted but he’s standing in partial shadows. Regardless, he’s not easy to miss.

He glances up sharply as I join him, his gaze hungrily searching mine and I let him look at me without comment because I need for him to know that I’m not hurt.

“It’s not your fault,” I murmur and to heck with it.

I reach out and wrap my fingers around his, holding on tight. Yes, he could easily break my bones but he doesn’t squeeze my hand. Neither does he yank free. Instead, he lets me drive the contact and that works for me in so many ways.

“Brooklyn better,” he rumbles. “No hurt.”

I nod. “Ares fixed it all. It’s fine. It was an accident.”

His eyelids flutter shut for a beat. “Sorry. Not happy. No more touch.”

“First off, you don’t have to apologize. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Your heart was in the right place.” He quirks a brow at me curiously and I realize he needs me to amend my phrasing so he can understand my meaning. “You reached out because you didn’t want me to fall. It was automatic. Because you care. Not because you were trying to hurt me. There’s a difference. A huge one.”

He shakes his head. “No hurt. No touch.”

I’m not beating my head against this wall any longer. “You’re touching me right now and it’s not hurting me. Watch, we can do this too.”

I drag his hand to my chest and flatten it against my collarbone, holding it captive with my palm. His dark gaze flies to mine and locks in place as the electricity between us gathers.

“See,” I murmur and slide his hand to my face, turning my cheek into it. “No hurt. But yes touch.”

This should be freaking me out. But it’s not. A man is touching me but he’s practically demanding that I guide what he does. Also, he’s not a man in the human sense. It’s powerful to be the one in control, especially given that the man in question is twice my size and has already demonstrated the ease with which he could snap another bone.

His fingers brush my cheek of their own volition as if he’s just as caught up in the moment as I am. Heat spreads through my face and tugs at me lower down, in places that I thought were dead.

That’s when he pulls free, his face a mess of emotions.

“What?” I ask softly, nearly weeping with frustration. “You don’t want to touch me?”

He nods, eyes closed as if for fortification, and that’s when I realize he’s struggling. Maybe he wants to touch me a whole lot, but he’s scared to. I think about what Clem and Ares said and I have to know.

“Why did you agree to this marriage, Ajax?” I ask him point-blank. “Is it because you wanted to have a legal reason to stay in America or some other reason?”

His eyes blink open and a faint line appears between his brows as he contemplates me, his gaze dark and enigmatic. “Stay America. Job. Only.”

I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t take the opportunity to tell me there’s another reason, like maybe he wants to have a real marriage. I should back off. But I don’t. There’s more here. I can feel it, and not just because I have inside information. It’s in his touch and in the moments between us at home when he watches me with this undisguised longing.

“What if there was no job?” I blurt out. “What if I said I married you because I need someone in my life? I’m lonely. I want to talk to you. Maybe go on another date. Spend time together like people do who like each other and think there’s a possibility of more down the road. What if our marriage can be more than an arrangement?”

That is not what I meant to say. But I can’t take it back. It’s all true. It took these extreme circumstances for me to get up the courage to be honest. And frankly, it’s a little ridiculous of me to expect him to tell me the things in his heart when I hadn’t done the same yet.

Now maybe we can get past the weird netherworld our relationship has been thus far. It’s not like he’s had a lot of the job to do. He’s basically a bodyguard—and a husband—in name only.

Maybe he wants something more than a bland, boring existence with nothing to anticipate, nothing to enjoy. If so, I can relate.

But he shakes his head, clearly bemused. “No. No touch. No kiss.”

“That’s what we agreed to, yes. But we’re allowed to change our minds. The real question is whether you want the possibility of more. I’m not saying we’re right for each other, or even that we’ll fall madly in love. Just that we’re together for better or worse. Why not take it up a level?”

This is pretty bold, especially for me. But I think it’s worth it to throw down and see what’s what.

Instead of my impassioned speech removing barriers, his face closes in and he manages to look even more miserable than he did a minute ago. “No deserve Brooklyn. Too strong. Many problems.”

Oh, man. He means every word too. I can tell. “That’s so not true.”

But then I falter. What am I doing? He’s right—this is a very difficult line to walk when I’m pretty gun shy in the first place and he’s already broken my arm once today. Maybe I should give it a rest and wait until I’m in a better place.

Except no one has ever told me they don’t deserve me. Like I’m special and he’s not good enough. That’s total crap, but the pure agony in his voice runs through my head on an endless loop. You don’t say something like that to a woman you think of as your employer.

And a woman trying to be brave doesn’t let it go.

“Just tell me this,” I say. “What if we can find a way to fix the problems? Will you at least admit that you want to try?”

Slowly, he nods, his gaze on me, dark and full of something delicious. “Yes.”