And there was something else. Something about being in this place, seeing how these people had adapted and survived, that felt like coming home in a way I hadn’t expected. The architecture, the social structures, the way families and warriors and craftspeople all fit together into a functioning whole—it reminded me of home.
Maybe this was what we’d lost when we’d taken to the stars. Maybe this was what we’d been looking for all along.
I looked at Zara, this brilliant, brave female who’d become the center of my universe. She was examining the carved designs on the wall, fingers tracing patterns that had been created by artisans who’d probably been dead for hundreds of cycles.
“Rivers,” I said quietly.
She turned toward me, and I crossed the room in three quick strides, pulling her into my arms and kissing her with all the pent-up emotion and desire that had been building since our interrupted morning in the tower.
She melted against me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kissed me back with equal intensity. For a moment, the complex politics and uncertain future faded away, leaving nothing but the warm reality of her in my arms and the certainty that whatever challenges we faced, we’d face them together.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers. If there was one thing I’d learned from this entire ordeal, it was that the universe had a way of throwing impossible challenges at you when you least expected them. But it also had a way of providing exactly what you needed to survive.
And what I needed was her.
CHAPTER 14
ZARA
Torven was overreacting. Iknewhe was overreacting, and I understood exactly why—the mating bond was flooding his system with protective hormones that were making him hypervigilant about every potential threat to my safety. It was a biological response to pair bonding in Destran physiology.
But understanding the science behind his behavior didn’t make it any less frustrating when he spent twenty minutes checking our quarters for surveillance devices that almost certainly didn’t exist.
“They’re not spying on us,” I said. He’d done a quick sweep when we first arrived, but now seemed to have decided he wasn’t thorough enough. So, he was at it again, and I sat on the edge of the bed watching him examine the carved decorations on the walls for hidden recording equipment. “These people have been nothing but hospitable.”
“Hospitality and surveillance aren’t mutually exclusive,” he replied, running his fingers along the edges of a particularlyintricate stone carving. “In fact, they often go hand in hand.”
I rolled my eyes. “Your paranoia is showing again.”
“Mycautionis showing. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re letting the mating bond turn you into an overprotective—”
He spun around to face me, and the intensity in his green eyes made my words die in my throat. His skin was shifting through shades of deep amber and gold, colors I was learning meant emotional arousal mixed with contentment.
“You think I don’t know what’s happening to me?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You think I’m not aware that every instinct I have is screaming at me to wrap you up and hide you somewhere safe?”
I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the tension radiating from his body. “Iknowyou’re aware. I just think you’re fighting it instead of acknowledging that we’re as safe here as we’re likely to be anywhere on this planet.”
“Safe.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “We’re surrounded by warriors who could kill us both without breaking a sweat, on a planet where the atmosphere is toxic and the weather systems are designed to murder anything that breathes. But sure, we’re safe.”
The raw edge in his voice made something clench low in my belly. This wasn’t just paranoia or overprotectiveness. This was fear—deep, primal fear for my safety and it was eating him alive from the inside.
“Torven,” I said softly, standing up from the stone bench where I’d been sitting. “Look at me.”
He did, and I could see the struggle playing out across his features. The logical part of his mind knew I was right, but the mating bond was overriding logic with pure biological imperative.
“I’m okay,” I said, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “I’m right here, I’m safe, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m not used to not being in command of my space,” he said roughly. “I don’t like it. I was raised a warrior and am…uneasy when I must rely on the tolerance of another species to survive. There is a price we must pay for thiscomfort. This situation is completely unpredictable, and if something happens to you—”
I reached up and cupped his face in my hands, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight tremor that ran through him at my touch. “Then we deal with it. But we can’t live in constant fear of what might happen.”
His hands came up to cover mine, pressing my palms more firmly against his cheeks. “The need to protect you is overwhelming, Rivers. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“I know. And my hormones are going crazy too, just in a different way.” I could feel my heart racing, my skin flushing with heat that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. “The mating bond affects both partners, remember?”
His eyes darkened, and I saw the moment when his focus shifted from protective paranoia to something much more intimate. “How is it affecting you?”
