“So what’s our next move?” I asked.
Torven looked out the window at the gray but relatively calm sky. “We figure out how to turn off this weather control system. Because if we can stabilize the atmospheric conditions permanently, rescue ships will be able to reach us.”
“And if we can’t?”
His jaw tightened. “Then we find another way. We locate our people, find the missing pod, and we get everyone to one location. Either Jorug or Henic’s location. Whichever one has better shelter and food sources.”
“All of us?”
“All of us,” he said firmly. “Including your friend.”
I nodded, feeling some of my determination return. We had a plan, even if it was a difficult one. And we had each other, which was more than I’d expected when I’d woken up this morning.
The mating marks on his neck caught the light as he moved, and I felt that strange sense of rightness again. Whatever else happened, whatever dangers we faced, we’d face them together.
I just hoped it would be enough.
Because somewhere out there, unknown aliens were listening to our communications and making plans of their own. And I had the uncomfortable feeling that those plans didn’t include letting any of us leave this planet alive.
CHAPTER 11
TORVEN
The descent back to the main level felt different this time. Every step down those metal stairs carried the weight of what I’d learned in the past few hours. My crew was scattered but alive—most of them, anyway. There were unknown aliens on this planet who might want us dead. And the woman walking beside me, her hand occasionally brushing mine as we navigated the narrow stairwell, was my mate.
My mate.
The knowledge sat in my chest like a warm ember, spreading heat through my entire body whenever I looked at her. The mating marks on my neck still felt tender, like a fresh brand, and I caught myself touching them without thinking.
“Stop that,” Zara said, noticing my hand moving to my neck again. “You’ll irritate the skin.”
“They itch,” I admitted.
“That’s normal. Maya told me Rykar’s marks were sensitive for the first few days.” She paused on the landing,studying my face with that analytical expression I was learning to recognize. “How do you feel? I mean, beyond the physical sensations.”
HowdidI feel?Like every instinct I’d spent years suppressing was now roaring to life. Like I wanted to carry her away from every possible danger and keep her safe in a place where nothing could touch her. Like I wanted to strip her clothes off and explore every inch of her skin until I knew exactly what made her gasp and moan. Like I wanted to plunge my cock inside of her and keep it there forever. Extreme, yes, but that was what the early stages of the mate bond did to a Destran male. The timing of it couldn’t have been worse.
“Protective,” I said, which was the most honest answer I could give without embarrassing us both. “More protective than I’ve ever felt about anyone.”
She nodded as if this made perfect sense to her. “The biological imperative to protect one’s mate. It’s probably evolutionary.”
“Probably.” Though what I was feeling didn’t seem like mere biology. It felt bigger than that, more consuming.
We reached the main control room, and I immediately started organizing our supplies. It was easier to focus on practical tasks than to think about the way Zara’s hair caught the light, or how her lips had looked when she was talking into the communicator earlier.
“Food inventory,” I announced, pulling out the dwindling ration packs.
Zara settled onto the blankets we’d arranged in the center of the room, cross-legged and efficient. I divided therations into portions, automatically giving her the larger share.
“That’s not right,” she said, eyeing the unequal distribution.
“It’s fine.”
“Torven, you’re bigger than me. You need more calories to maintain your body mass.”
“I need less food than you do to survive. Destran metabolism is more efficient.” It wasn’t really a lie. Destran metabolismwasmore efficient, but withoutlami, we needed food. Definitely more food than what I was eating, but the truth was that the thought of her going hungry while I had food made my skin crawl with anxiety.
She looked skeptical but didn’t argue further. We ate in comfortable silence. The rations tasted like cardboard but provided necessary nutrition. Every time I caught her looking at me, something tightened in my chest. The way she chewed thoughtfully, the way she licked her lower lip when she was thinking—it was all distracting in ways that made planning our next moves difficult.
