She had a thousand questions for him. Namely, had sex been so earth-shattering every time, with every one he’d ever been with? How soon until they could do it again? Next time, she wanted to kiss, stroke and suck on him. Did he feel as if his defenses had crumbled, and he was nothing but an open wound, too? He must be! The thunderstruck expression hadn’t dulled.

Still waiting...

Bane didn’t pull her close, but he didn’t get up, either. Between panting breaths, his voice hollow, he said, “I need to contact Aveline. She tried to reach me while we were otherwise occupied.”

She pasted on a small smile to hide her disappointment. “Do what you must,” she said, and oh, wow, her screams had scratched up her voice. She could work a sex hotline and make thousands!

He underwent a metamorphosis right before her eyes, tensing, as if a heavy weight had settled over him. Next, he draped an arm over his eyes to shut out the rest of the world—to shut out Nola. Then he projected a staggering amount of guilt and regret.

Great! Just when the sun had begun to dawn on her life, chasing away the darkness, he’d summoned an eclipse.

The heat drained from her body, leaving her inundated by teeth-chattering cold. Somehow, she also felt scalded. Only minutes ago, she’d been resplendent. A woman worshipped by her man. Now, she was trapped in a miasma of confusion and contradiction. Powerful yet helpless. Certain yet clueless. Capable of doing anything and nothing, her heart both full and empty. Hopeful for the future, but terrified about what was to come.

Did everyone feel like a roller coaster of emotion after sex, or only the aliens?

Why couldn’t she and Bane be a couple in a romance novel, her magic vagina curing his wounds, his every problem?

Had she made any progress with him? Had his heart mended even a minute amount?

Trembles growing more noticeable, Nola folded the covers over her legs...torso...breasts. A type of armor, she supposed. Protection from her own vulnerabilities.

As she scoured her brain for a topic of conversation, or maybe a plan of action, Bane shifted and winced, and she noticed the specks of blood on his bandage.

“Your wound,” she said, breathless. “It’s opened up again.”

“I grow more aware of it by the minute.” He fisted his hands and lowered his arm. Whatever had been on his mind, he’d obviously made a monumental decision, his expression determined. “Nola...dove...we must talk.”

Her hopes plummeted. “Look, if you’re worried I’ll get clingy, stop. I’m no longer a virgin. I bet I can be with someone else.” I don’t want to be with anyone else.