Page 61 of Her Alien Owner
“Speaking of us…” I begin, feeling a slight flutter in my stomach. “What do you think about turning this estate into a shared home? Something that reflects both of us.”
Valen’s eyes light up, a rare softness replacing his usual brooding intensity. “I was waiting for you to ask.”
“You were?” I blink, taken aback by his readiness. “I thought you’d be more possessive about your space.”
He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “This place has always felt like a fortress. I want it to feel like home—for both of us.”
I can’t help but smile at his openness. “Well, for starters, the bedroom could use a cozier touch. Maybe some softer colors, warmer lighting… and more plants.”
“Plants?” His eyebrow arches skeptically.
“Yes, plants,” I insist with a laugh. “They make a space feel alive.”
He nods slowly. “I like that idea. What else?”
I take a deep breath, feeling more confident. “We could rework the layout to create more intimate spaces. Reading nooks, maybe an area where we can just sit and talk.”
He leans closer, his green eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. “As long as this place is safe and comfortable for you, I’m happy.”
“Comfortable?” I echo, feeling the warmth of his words settle in my chest.
“Yes,” he says firmly. “Your safety and comfort are my top priorities.”
His sincerity disarms me, making me feel both vulnerable and cherished at the same time. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“For letting me in,” I say softly.
Valen reaches out and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is tender yet possessive, sending a rush of warmth through me.
“You’re not just in,” he murmurs, his voice low and serious. “You’re here to stay.”
The town hall is packed,the air thick with the murmurs of anxious parents and the occasional cough. The mayor sits at the front, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. Valen stands beside me, his presence a steady anchor in the chaotic room.
A woman with tired eyes and a voice strained from overuse steps forward. “We’ve been teaching without books or tools for months,” she says, her voice cracking. “The children deserve better.”
There’s a murmur of agreement from the crowd. I glance at Valen, who gives me a small nod. It’s my turn.
I rise from my seat and make my way to the front, feeling dozens of eyes on me. “My name is Ariana,” I begin, my voice clear but warm. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve seen this community struggle to rebuild.”
The crowd quiets, their attention focused on me.
“I commissioned an architect to draw up plans for a new school,” I continue, holding up a set of blueprints. “A sustainable building that will educate every child in this district—and eventually, they could be built in every district on Armstrong.”
I unfold the blueprints on a nearby table, revealing detailed drawings of classrooms, playgrounds, and green spaces. Gasps ripple through the room.
“This is what our children deserve,” I say firmly. “A place where they can learn and grow in safety and comfort.”
The mayor shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Every child in the district, that would take hiring more teachers. And who’s going to fund this project?” he asks, a hint of skepticism in his tone.
Valen smirks. “You are,” he replies smoothly. “With our help.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before someone in the crowd speaks up. “We need this school!”
Another voice joins in. “Our kids can’t wait any longer!”
The room erupts into applause and shouts of agreement. The mayor looks around helplessly before finally nodding.