My Alien Keeper

When you crash-land on an alien moon, getting adopted by a feral predator isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. Especially when he’s hot.

Jaime
Chronic illness has taught me to be a fighter, but crash-landing on an alien moon while being unable to walk? That’s a new level of cosmic unfairness. Now I’m stranded in a jungle with no supplies, no rescue coming, and a very real chance of becoming something’s dinner.
Then my something shows up. Eight limbs, camouflage skin, and enough teeth to star in my nightmares. Except instead of eating me, this feral predator seems to think I belong to him. He doesn’t speak, barely seems civilized, but he protects me and looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in his world.
Living with a creature who purrs when he scent-marks me probably isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but when you’re disabled and alone on a hostile alien world, you take the wins where you can get them. Even if your “win” has claws and a possessive streak a mile wide.

Adam
Mine. Mate.
The words cut through the fog that clouds my mind, along with the strange creature’s scent. I don’t remember much, just hunger, hunting, and endless rage, but this small, fragile thing awakens something else. Something that wants to protect instead of destroy.
The creature’s damaged, its body not working properly. No matter. I’ll be its legs, its claws, its strength. I’ll keep it safe in my den and never let it go.
The sounds the creature makes feel familiar, though I can’t understand them. It calls me “Adam,” and when it speaks, the fog lifts just enough for me to remember I used to be more. But remembering hurts, and forgetting is easier when I have my mate to focus on instead.