“I didn’t flinch because I was afraid of you. I flinched because I’d just had a knife at my throat and everything happened so fast and I couldn’t—” Her voice broke. “I wasn’t afraid of you. I was overwhelmed. There’s a difference. A big difference.”
He searched her face.
The door opened behind them and a warrior from the escort filled the doorway, his eyes assessing the room in a single sweep.
“The situation has been contained,” he said, his voice clipped and professional. “However, given the attacks, we’re offering immediate evacuation to any human females who wish to leave. Transport departs in an hour.”
Goraath went rigid under her hands.
“I’m not leaving,” she said, steady and sure. She didn’t even have to think about it. She was staying.
The warrior’s gaze flicked to Goraath, then back to her. “You’re certain? The threats?—”
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” She held his gaze, let him see the steel in it. “This is my choice and my life. I’m staying.”
The warrior’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded and left.
Goraath stared at her like she’d sprouted wings.
“I need you to tell me,” She said in a low voice. “You need to tell me everything. Who you were before you were a rancher. Why you stopped. What ‘krin hunter’ means.”
The silence stretched between them and she watched the war play out across his face...
“Please.” She stroked her thumb across his cheekbone. “No more secrets. I’m not going anywhere, but I need to understand.”
He broke right there in front of her.
“My mother was a warrior.” The words came out slow. “One of the best. I followed her into service as soon as I came of age.”
“You were a warrior too.”
“Worse.” A muscle jumped in his cheek. “I tested into the Hunter program. The empire’s most dangerous warriors. They’re the ones sent into the nests when everything else has failed.”
“Nests?”
“Krin nests. They’re...” He shook his head. “Creatures. Apex predators who consider other species nothing more than food. They infest planets, and consume everything organic. The only way to stop them is to go into the pod nests and destroy them.”
Her stomach turned over. “And you did that.”
“For fifteen years.” His voice was flat. “I earned honor braids for every nest I destroyed. Every kill.”
She tried to imagine it and couldn’t.
“What happened?” she asked. “Why did you stop?”
He was quiet so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. When he did, his voice was low.
“My mother’s unit was ambushed by a pod. I wasn’t there. Couldn’t protect her.” His throat worked. “They brought her body home in pieces. We were lucky to get anything of her at all.”
Oh god.
“I cut my braids that night.” The words were rough and raw, like they were ripped from somewhere deep inside his soul. “All of them. Every bead I’d earned. Buried that part of myself.”
Her eyes burned, but she blinked hard and refused to let the tears fall.
“My father...” He stopped, frowned, then started speaking again. “We mate for life. The bond goes deeper than emotion. Deeper than choice. When one bonded mate dies, the other often follows.”
Her chest went tight. Oh God, it was so hard to breathe.
