Outside, the wind began to pick up again, and I knew our temporary respite was ending. But wrapped in blankets, with my mate in my arms, I felt ready to face whatever came next.
Because now I had something worth fighting for. Someone worth protecting. And I’d be damned if I let anything take that away from us.
CHAPTER 12
ZARA
Iwoke up slowly, aware of warmth and weight and the unfamiliar sensation of another body pressed against mine. For a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or why every muscle in my body felt pleasantly loose and satisfied. Then memory came flooding back—Torven’s hands on my skin, his mouth between my legs, the way he’d made me come apart with a skill that blew up what Ithoughtwas good sex. And we hadn’t even had actual, penetrative sex. I’d be redefining my parameters of sexual pleasure based on this new data…and the data I’d be collecting with each new intimate encounter I experienced with Torven.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I remembered how I’d cried out his name, how I’d gripped his hair and arched beneath him like some sort of wanton creature. I’dneverbeen so responsive with anyone before, never felt pleasure that intense and all-consuming.
I turned my head carefully, not wanting to wake him, and studied his sleeping face. He was lying on his back, one armthrown over his head, his breathing deep and even, with the faintest hint of a snore. In sleep, the harsh lines of his face were softer, making him look younger somehow. His skin was a soft, warm bronze with lavender patches that looked like clouds moving slowly over his body. The mating marks on his neck were clearly visible, the dark patterns that marked me as his and him as mine.
My mate. The concept still felt surreal, butrightin some mystical, illogical way. I wanted to think that I wouldn’t overanalyze it, but I would. I knew I would.
I let my gaze drift lower, taking in the strong column of his throat, the broad expanse of his chest rising and falling with each breath. I could see faint scars scattered across his torso—evidence of his warrior past, probably. My fingers itched to trace those marks, to explore every inch of him the way he’d explored me.
The memory of his restraint last night made something clench low in my belly. The way he’d stopped my hand when I’d tried to touch him, the tight control in his voice when he’d said he wanted to maintain what little self-discipline he had left. I understood it, but I also wanted to see that control shatter completely.
As I watched him sleep, a thought crystallized in my mind with startling clarity. We might not make it out of this situation alive. Despite our determination to survive, despite our plans and hopes, the reality was that we were trapped on a hostile planet with dwindling resources and unknown enemies potentially hunting us.
Sowhywere we waiting?
I was a practical person. I believed in making decisionsbased on available data and logical assessment of outcomes. And the data suggested that if we were going to die anyway, we might as well enjoy whatever time we had left. More than that—I wanted him. I wanted to know what it felt like to have him inside me, to experience that final connection that would make us truly mates in every sense of the word.
The decision felt right, inevitable. I was done waiting.
Moving carefully so as not to wake him, I shifted closer and let my hand drift down his chest, tracing the line of muscle definition from his collarbone to his abdomen. His skin was warm and smooth under my palm, and I could feel his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my fingertips.
When I reached the waistband of his pants, I hesitated for just a moment. Then I slipped my hand lower, palming the impressive bulge that had been straining against the fabric last night.
He was already hard.
The moment I touched him, his entire body went rigid on a sharp intake of breath. His eyes snapped open, instantly alert and focused on my face with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.
“Rivers,” he growled in a warning tone. “What are you doing?”
“I changed my mind,” I said simply. “About waiting.”
Something primal flashed across his features, and he rolled toward me with a low groan that vibrated through his chest. His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone as he looked at me with eyes that glittered like dark emeralds.
“Are you sure?” he asked, though I could see the strain it cost him to give me the chance to back out.
“I’m sure,” I breathed, leaning into his touch. “I’ve thought about the probabilities of our survival and I want—”
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The sound of heavy impacts on the outer hatch shattered the intimate moment like glass. We both froze, staring at each other in shock before tossing off the blanket and scrambling up to standing. It was too rhythmic to be storm debris, too purposeful to be anything other than someone—or something—demanding entry.
“Get dressed,” Torven ordered, already scanning the room for something—a weapon, probably. “Now.”
“Iam,” I muttered, scrambling for my discarded garments.Iwas the only one of us who was naked and I definitely didn’t want to deal with whoever was outside that hatch in such a state. My heart slammed against my ribs as the pounding stopped and the outer hatch creaked open loudly. They were in the air lock vestibule. Working on the inner hatch. I had never pulled on clothing so quickly before. I couldn’t find my bra or my socks, and one shoe was missing. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.
Torven had pulled on his shirt and grabbed a piece of twisted metal debris from the pile of salvage near the wall. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. His face had gone hard and focused, and his skin had shifted to dark blues with brilliant purple streaks.
“Behind me,” he said, positioning himself between me and the inner hatch as I finished fastening my jacket with shaking fingers.
The screech of metal on metal was excruciating as someone worked at the inner hatch mechanism. I pressed myself against Torven’s back, wishing that we had real weapons instead of improvised clubs and tenuous hope.
