Page 75 of Her Alien Owner

His arms wrap around me, holding me close. "Of course," he murmurs into my hair. "We’re in this together."

I pull back slightly to look up at him, our faces inches apart. His green eyes are softer than I've ever seen them, filled with a warmth that makes my heart swell.

"You know," I say with a grin, "you're not as intimidating as you think you are."

"Is that so?" he replies, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Yeah," I tease. "You’re kind of a softie."

"Don't let that get out," he warns playfully, tightening his hold on me.

"I won’t," I promise, kissing him lightly on the lips.

As we sit there by the lake, wrapped in each other’s arms and dreams of our future taking shape between us, everything feels right. The hardships of Armstrong seem distant for now, overshadowed by the promise of what we’re building together—a family, a home filled with love and laughter.

And as Valen’s hand slips into mine, I know we’re ready for whatever comes next.

Dinner that evening is a quiet affair, the kind that speaks volumes in silence. Valen and I sit across from each other at a small table in the garden, lanterns casting a warm glow over our meal. The chef has outdone himself tonight—every dish a masterpiece of flavors and creativity.

Valen leans back in his chair, nodding appreciatively as the chef explains the inspiration behind the main course. “I must say, you’ve been on fire lately,” he says, his green eyes glinting with genuine admiration.

The chef beams, a rare sight. “Thank you, sir. It’s all about experimenting with what Armstrong has to offer now that we’re getting fresh supplies.”

As the chef retreats back to the kitchen, I catch Valen’s eye and smile. “You’ve changed, you know.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have I?”

“Yes,” I say, setting down my fork. “You’re more open now. Like just now, with the chef. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have given him more than a passing nod.”

He chuckles softly. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Maybe,” I reply, my heart swelling with pride.

He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. His touch is warm and reassuring. “And you’ve grown too. You’re more confident, more outspoken.”

“Thanks to you,” I admit.

“No,” he counters firmly. “That’s all you.”

I shake my head. “We’ve helped each other grow.”

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose we have.”

I glance around the garden—its lush greenery a testament to our shared efforts to breathe life back into Armstrong. “Remember when we first met? You were this brooding mystery man, and I was just trying to keep my head above water.”

“I remember,” he says with a smile that softens his usually stern features.

“Look at us now,” I continue. “We’ve come so far.”

He squeezes my hand gently. “I’m proud of us.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

We finish our meal in comfortable silence, the sounds of the night wrapping around us like a blanket. As we stand to leave, Valen pulls me into an embrace.

“I love you,” he murmurs against my hair.

“I love you too,” I reply, feeling a surge of warmth and contentment.