And you won’t survive out here for much longer unless you let me out. You can’t pretend to be something you’re not.
And what is that?
You know.
I was so lost in my argument with myself I didn’t notice Oberon’s approach until he sat down on the bench next to me. I jumped, startled.
“Apologies, my—Willow. I did not mean to frighten you.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention.” This was stupid.Iwas stupid. I shouldn’t need an alien’s psychic collar to feel like a reasonable person. It was just that I’d loved not feeling afraid all the time. Anxious. Weak. It had been so long since I’d felt strong and confident, I had completely forgotten that version of myself. Having that part of myself back had been amazing. Like waking up from hibernation and shaking off a heavy layer of ice and snow. For the first time in a long, long time, with Zarren, I’d begun to feel like myself.
Could I be like that all the time? Really?
I missedher,the old me.She had loved to play and go out with friends. Loved to laugh. Loved competition and adventure. She’d lovedlife.
I’m right here. Just make the fucking decision. Let me out.
I’m afraid.The admission made me want to scratch my own eyes out. Scream in frustration.
I know. It’s okay. We got this. What did mom always say?
Be afraid, and do it anyway...
Yes.
Life was for adventure. I’d believed that fundamental truth for as long as I could remember. When I was seven, I tied a cape around my neck, climbed multiple trees and tied ropes around at least one limb belonging to several large oak trees in the park. Why? Because I was determined to swing from tree to tree like Tarzan.
I taught myself how to ride a bicycle when I was eight. I didn’t have a father around to do it and my mother worked two jobs. I’d had to figure out a lot of things myself. I fell. I got up. I scraped elbows and knees, twisted my ankle, and had a sore ass. But I’d learned.
I saved up and bought a pair of rollerblades when I was nine and promptly zoomed around the neighborhood. I crashed and broke both wrists the week before school started. Showing up to the first day of school with two casts had made me instantly popular. The emergency room visit had earned me a lecture about the importance of wrist guards. I healed. I never wore them. Too hot and sweaty. I preferred taking my chances.
When I was ten, I’d punched Andrew Horton—who was a grade ahead and a lot bigger than me—in the nose during recess. He’d dropped a wet worm down my shirt and smashed its guts into both my skin and my favorite sweater.
That one still made me mad. That sweater had been a birthday gift from my mother. She had taken me to the yarn store, let me choose the colors, and she had crocheted it herself. Yeah. Should have punched him harder.
All those events were in the past. Long gone. My mother was dead, killed by a mugger my senior year of high school. She was the reason I joined the police academy the week after I graduated from high school. I didn’t really have any family left on Earth.
I had thought I would have a new family now. Becoming a bride was supposed to be a new adventure. Bride testing had not been an easy decision for me. But I knew going home wasn’t an option. My life on Earth felt like a hundred years ago. I wasn’t the same woman I’d been when I was taken. Not even close.
But—I wanted to be. I was so tired of being anxious and afraid. Always waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Oberon gently touched the back of my hand. The contact with another being shocked me out of my inner monologue.
“I will make myself known next time.”
That shouldn’t be necessary. I should be aware of my surroundings at all times. Alert.
I shrugged. “No problem.” I didn’t have anything else to tell him except that he looked gorgeous, like really freaking beautiful. His cousin, Bastion—also one hot-as-hell Prillon warrior—had taken one look at Oberon when he arrived on Battleship Zeus and insisted Oberon go straight into a ReGen Pod. As a result, Oberon looked like he was completely healed. His light brown skin and hair practically glowed with health. Full, powerful muscles rippled beneath his uniform every time he moved. He was strong. Gentle. Calm compared to Zarren’s storm.
“Willow?”
“What?” I looked directly at him, into those golden eyes that saw too much, knew too much. I never should have told him that I’d been a prisoner. Now he would always look at me like he was right now. With concern. Pity.
That look was the main reason I hadn’t told Zarren about my past. Give me rage, or fear, or even pain. Not pity.Anythingbut pity. All pity did was make me feel even weaker and more miserable. I didn’t need any help in that department.
Oberon’s sigh made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Whatever he was about to say, I wasn’t going to like it.
“I do not know if you have been paying attention, but there are more than a few warriors in this room.”
