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I couldn’t blame her.
Here I was, an alien, amidst the cold, daunting environment of a prison, yet offering her protection.
The scenario would sound absurd to anyone.
“But why?” she whispered, her fingers subconsciously playing with the hem of her negligee. “Why protect me?”
I hesitated for a moment, trying to find the words.
The feelings she stirred within me were raw, undefined. “Some connections are beyond comprehension,” I began. “I can’t fully explain it, but I feel a bond with you, one that demands I ensure your safety.”
She took a moment, processing everything.
The delicate aroma of her confusion and intrigue wafted towards me, making me more determined to gain her trust.
“You’re not like them, are you?” she finally said, her tone soft, almost in awe.
I smiled, taking her hand gently in mine.
The sensation was electric, her soft, warm skin against my cooler one. “No, Isla, I’m not.”
Isla’s visible discomfort tugged at the strings of my heart.
I remembered the multitude of outfits stored away, artifacts from different worlds and timelines.
Moving quickly, I approached a sleek, dark wardrobe that blended seamlessly into the walls.
Its door hissed open at my touch, revealing an array of clothes.
My fingers brushed past the fabrics, some rough, others as soft as a whisper, until they settled on a long, dark coat.
The coat was made of a material unique to my home planet — a shimmering, insulating fabric that retained warmth and looked like the night sky strewn with stars.
Gently, I draped it over Isla’s shoulders.
The relief on her face was evident as the coat cascaded down, enveloping her.
The sensation of the soft fabric brushing against my fingers sent a pleasurable tingle down my spine, reminding me of simpler times.
“Thank you,” she murmured, clutching the coat around her like a protective barrier.
Before I could respond, my eyes caught a vivid mark marring her porcelain skin — a deep, angry red that looked terribly out of place.
The beast’s rough handling had left a mark, igniting a flare of anger within me.
I motioned for her to sit on the sleek, cushioned bench near the room’s corner. “I gave explicit instructions that you were not to be harmed,” I said, my voice filled with a cold fury I barely recognized.
I remembered the salve, a blend of rare herbs and compounds, stored in a wall cabinet for such contingencies.
The cabinet opened with a soft whir, revealing rows of neatly organized vials and jars.
The scent of medicinal herbs wafted into the air as I selected the right container.
A deep green paste, cool to the touch, awaited inside.
Hesitating for just a moment, I looked into Isla’s eyes, seeking permission.
She gave a slight nod.
