"It'll only be for a couple more days," he said, his tone shifted, making him sound… friendlier? I wasn't sure, because friendly was the last thing I would accuse him of being.
"Two days then?"
He ran a tired hand over his neck and nodded. My gaze moved over his large, empty room—well, empty of people. There was a bed, a table, and a very, very comfy-looking chair that reminded me of an oversized beanbag—a very comfortable-looking oversized beanbag.
He really didn't have anything to complain about. He had this whole room to himself. My gaze moved back to the beanbag chair. How humiliating would it be to beg to sleep on it? At this point, I didn't even care what the others would say. Just a night alone, well, alone with him, sounded tantalizing.
"Was there something else you wanted?" He asked.
I sighed, very aware that I would never degrade myself like that, not even for a few hours of peace. Two more days. I could do that. I could deal with two more days.
"What about the black lines? Did you find anything?" I stalled. Since yesterday, they had stopped growing. Thank God. Intricate lines and swirls moved up and down my entire left arm, left flank, and thigh. "Did yours stop growing too?"
"They did." He sank down on one of the chairs by the table and indicated for me to take a seat also.
I shook my head. "I'm good."
"Trust me, you’ll want to sit for this."
Oh shit. With a heavy chest, I took a seat. "Are we dying?"
"What?" He looked perplexed. "No!"
I still didn't feel relieved, though. "So what are they?"
"They're mating marks."
"Mating marks?" I parroted, blinked a few times, and stared at him, trying to decide if it was him or me who had lost their ever-loving marbles. "What do you mean?"
"Mating marks, as in our bodies have recognized their fated mates in each other and marked us."
I snorted. My hand flew up to my mouth, and I laughed despite this not being funny, even if he was making a joke. "That’s not funny," I managed.
"No. It's not."
One look at his stony expression stopped any more laughter in me. "You're serious?"
"I don't joke."
Fuck!
"Is that even a thing?" I stalled because, honestly, my mind was a bit overloaded right then. Mating marks? Fated mates?
"I take it humans don't have fated mates or mating marks?" He checked.
Slowly, I turned my head left to right and then right to left, never stopping to stare at him. He had to be crazy, right? Maybe he wasn't rescuing us after all; maybe he was taking us to some godforsaken planet for some sinister games? Because this… this had to be a mind game. This wasn't real. Couldn't be.
Except, you have the marks.
Yeah, but that doesn't mean shit. I mean, we're on a spaceship. How hard can it be for someone like him to… to… dye my skin?
Sure.
Sometimes I hated myself when I had these internal debates.
"So… your people…" I fished. "They have that kind of mating marks?"
"I wouldn't know," he answered mysteriously.
