The Lonely Orphan (The Lost Planet 5)

“Nightmares,” she says with a breathy laugh.

“Big Bird Nightmare. Works for me.” I grin at her. “Come on, let’s see what this place is.”

I scoop her into my arms and push through the door into another chamber. It blows air on us, eliminating any remaining moisture. Once we’re cleared and the light turns green, I take her into a huge room. On one side is a large window overlooking the ocean. There’s a desk, a chair, and a small bed.

Gently, I set Lyric back to her feet and begin removing her zu-gear. I manage to take off all her zu-gear and then help her to the bed. She sits and watches me as I strip out of mine. Once I’m unencumbered by the suit, I kneel in front of her.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask softly, running my clawed fingertip along her brow.

She winces. “My head. I hit it hard when you threw me.”

“Threw you?”

“Oh, yeah. Dropped me like a bad habit.”

“On Mortuus, we call that rescuing the female from becoming food.”

“On Earth II, we call it cutting your losses and going home.”

I pin her with a serious glare. “I told you I wasn’t going home without you.”

The air seems to crackle with energy. She’s the first to break the stare down.

My palm cradles her cheek and then I slide it down along her neck, checking for her pulse as Avrell does. Steady and hard. Good. But unlike Avrell, I don’t pull away. My thumb slides across her smooth throat.

“It’s just a headache,” she murmurs. “I’ll be okay.”

I squeeze my eyes shut before giving her a defeated look. “Your face mask cracked.”

“You taped it back up.”

“I…Lyric…” Pain cuts through me sharply. “You’ve been exposed to the elements.”

“I feel fine,” she argues.

Now.

But what about later?

“If you start to feel fevered or ill, please tell me.” I rise to my feet and walk over to my pack. “Relax and I’ll feed you. Later, I will check the R-levels out there.”

Please let her be okay.

* * *

“It’s cold,” Lyric says once I reenter the room.

I panic for a moment, wondering if she’s gotten a fever, but then I realize the temperature has dropped since nightfall. She’s shivering, curled up under the thin blanket.

“The R-levels are non-existent. I checked everywhere, including where you landed.”

She smiles. “Good.”

“Small problem.” I frown. “Big Bird is gone.”

“It lived?” she hisses, her eyes going wide.

“Apparently so,” I grumble. “We’ll need to be watchful that it doesn’t come back when we’re out there.”

She shivers. “I hate that bird.”

“Me too.” I strip out of my zu-gear and kick off my boots. “Should I warm you?”

I don’t expect her to agree, but when her nog moves up and down, my heart flips inside my chest.

But why?

Why does the idea of pulling her tiny body against mine feel like the most wonderful gift I could ever receive?

What about Aria?

“Hadrian…”

Her voice cuts through my mind, silencing all thoughts. “Yes, feral one?”

She smiles. “Come warm me up.”

“I thought you were afraid of me,” I challenge as I all too eagerly bound over to her.

“If you try anything funny, I’ll kick you in the balls again. That was effective.”

“Wicked female,” I growl, smiling.

She lifts the blanket and lies on her side, giving me room. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’m willing to give it a go. I settle on my side beneath the blanket, facing her, and wrap my arm around her small waist. She gasps when I haul her to my chest. Her tiny fist grips the front of my minnasuit and she tilts her nog up to look at me.

“I knew you’d be warm,” she murmurs.

My gaze falls to her pouty lips. Pink. Pretty. Soft.

“I don’t need to have the truth-teller to know you want to kiss me,” she says, her blue eyes sharp and assessing.

Rather than answer and reveal a truth I am not ready to give, I slide my palm to her rump and squeeze it.

“Hadrian!”

I lift a brow. “I’m warming you up.”

“My ass is fine.”

“It’s an agreeable ass,” I confirm.

“Agreeable? That makes it sound like it’s mediocre.”

Confusing female.

“Your rump is far from mediocre,” I assure her. “It’s plump. I like squeezing it…to warm it.”

She narrows her eyes. “Plump, hmm?”

“Plump is not a nice word?”

“You think my ass is nice?”

“I think your rump is a lot of things, nice included.”

A smile tugs at her lips. In this moment, she is playful and sweet. A far cry from the hard woman I first met. And what about me? Cuddling up to her and teasing about her rump is the old Hadrian—the Hadrian who didn’t get his heart broken by something he can’t have and grow hard in the process.

What if I was never meant to have it because I was meant to have something even better?

Right now, with Lyric watching me with unguarded interest, it’s hard to imagine anything better. She smells sweet and I crave to bury my nose in her hair to inhale her scent.