I tried to stay away from Harper, but it was hard. I craved her with a hunger that gnawed at my resolve like acid eating through metal. The tingling in my spine was relentless, a constant electric current that pulsed through my vertebrae and radiated outward in waves that made my skin feel too tight, too hot.
When Kaelaks found our mate, our spines tingled, and our bodies released pheromones designed to entice the female. If it was a true mating, blessed by the goddess, the female responded to the pheromones. Harper had kissed me, her lips soft and eager against mine. I could scent her arousal, a sweet, heady fragrance that made my blood run hot and my cock hard, straining against the confines of my borrowed human clothing. She'd responded to my pheromones, her body calling to mine. I could feel it in my bones. All the signs were there, written in biology and instinct—Harper was my mate.
But how?
Perhaps it was because Xytol had never met Harper in person. Never been close enough to see her soft, curvy body, or smell her delectable scent. Yet Harper herself said they'd bonded. Even if she wasn't Xytol's mate by Kaelak's biology, they were mates of the heart. And I knew from the human females I'd met that the heart was far more important to them.
On my homeworld, it was the surviving male's responsibility to care for a sibling's mate—a task of great honor. During my youth, I'd witnessed instances of the levirate obligation turning into genuine affection, seen how duty could transform into devotion. But rarely and never accompanied by the biological signs of mating, the spine-tingling, pheromone-drenched certainty that now plagued my every waking moment.
Perhaps the goddess wanted to ensure that I would honor my duty to this strange but fascinating female. If Xytol lived, it was my duty to care for Harper until I could return her to his side. But if Xytol was truly gone, then the duty was no longer just an honor. It was a sacred responsibility, a burden I would carry until my last breath.
My spine tingled again, the invisible thread pulling taut between us. I glanced across the room, searching for Harper, needing to see her, to know she was safe.
She sat cross-legged on a nest of towels, her body curved forward in concentration as she thumbed through something she called amagazine. This one showed pictures of females in different types of clothing. The last one had shown images of Earth homes, structures so varied and colorful they'd fascinated me for nearly an hour. I watched her now, studying the way her slender fingers traced the glossy pages. The way her brow furrowed slightly when something caught her attention, creating a small crease between her eyebrows that I found utterly captivating. Despite the intense mating urge, I felt something softer washing over me. A protective instinct, yes, but also a genuine curiosity about this human female who had suddenly become so important to my existence, who had woven herself into the fabric of my soul without even trying.
Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, catching what little light filtered through the boarded windows and turning it into threads of gold and amber. I noticed how different she wasfrom Kaelak females, smaller and more delicate. She seemed fragile in that moment, her shoulders slightly hunched, her body small against the backdrop of the abandoned store, yet I knew she possessed a strength that defied her appearance. A resilience forged in the fires of grief, a determination that had likely helped her survive the loss of her previous mate and another whom she might never meet.
I glanced at the comm unit on my wrist. The dark screen mocked me with its silence. I desperately wished I could contact theHistoriafor an update on the search for Xytol. Yet with the storm raging outside, communication would be impossible. The electromagnetic interference would block any long-range transmissions, leaving me isolated with my thoughts—and with Harper.
I pulled my attention from her and turned it to the world beyond our shelter, peering through the cracks in the boarded windows. Slivers of gray light penetrated the gaps, revealing glimpses of the chaos outside. Debris tumbling past, water rushing through the streets in muddy torrents, the skeletal remains of structures that hadn't survived the storm's fury. I pretended to be on guard duty, but there was nothing outside but wind and rain and the occasional piece of wreckage carried past on the floodwaters. The building rattled from time to time, groaning under the storm's assault, but the structure seemed secure enough. The roof had a few leaks, with water dripping steadily into the buckets we'd positioned throughout the space, necessitating their emptying from time to time. But the roof still appeared solid, the beams holding firm. Even the tidal surge that flooded the streets hadn't risen high enough to cause any real concern.
We were safe for now. But once the tempest ended, that was another matter entirely. One that filled me with a gnawing dread I couldn't quite shake.
I needed to get Harper to my shuttle, to the safety of theHistoria. But therein lay the problem.
Harper didn't know what I was. To her, my brother and I were human, and the danger stalking her was a human one. She had no idea that the danger she was in might span galaxies.
I slipped my hand into my pocket, my fingers closing around the syringe I carried. The sedative was calibrated for human physiology, able to render her unconscious within seconds, and gentle enough to leave no lasting effects. While I hated the idea, the option of sedating her still loomed. But that felt like the worst kind of violation, a betrayal of the trust we'd begun to build. And if she woke aboard an alien vessel, with strange beings and the realization that I'd drugged her, the terror would be infinitely worse.
No, I wouldn't do anything that might scare her.
I could tell her the truth. Turn off the cuddwisg and show her my true self. But that option held dangers of its own. Even in the depths of space, humans often showed fright at meeting different species for the first time. How would she react? Would her face twist with revulsion, her body recoiling from my touch? Would fear replace the tentative warmth I'd seen growing in her eyes, the soft smiles she'd offered me?
No. Not yet.
I watched her turn another page of her magazine, her slender fingers trailing across the glossy paper, completely oblivious to my internal struggle. She trusted me enough to let me close, enough to kiss me with a passion that still made my blood heat. That trust was precious, rare as the flowers that bloomed once a century on my homeworld. I couldn't afford to shatter it. Not yet. Not until I had no other choice.
She flicked her gaze upward, catching mine—a faint, sad smile playing at her lips. She was quieter after our kiss. No doubt my reaction had hurt her. I regretted how I'd acted, but I'd hadto get away, had to put some space between us before I lost what remained of my control. I wanted nothing more than to keep doing that wonderful human invention of kissing. Letting my tongue play with hers, my hands roaming over her soft curves. I could no longer deny how I felt. But I wouldn't give in to the feelings. I knew the scent of my pheromones made her needy, but I would have to be strong and resist. I owed it to Xytol.
Her safety was what mattered. That was my responsibility. My duty. My honor.
She looked away first, her gaze dropping back to the magazine, though I noticed her fingers had stilled on the page. The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy. I cleared my throat, the sound rough and awkward, wanting to keep her attention, to draw those blue eyes back to mine. It felt desperately important, the loss of her gaze causing a physical ache in my chest.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, my voice coming out soft, almost tentative.
She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. A flash of something—hunger, perhaps, or something deeper—flickered across her face before she could mask it, causing a heat that made my spine tingle with renewed awareness.
"I could eat," Harper said, her voice carrying a husky quality that hadn't been there before. Her fingers still rested on the magazine page, but her attention was fully on me now; her pupils slightly dilated. My body hummed in response, every nerve ending suddenly alive and aware.
We still had a stash of supplies piled next to our makeshift beds, but mostly the wonderful things called potato chips and sweet stuff. I moved through the shelves, selecting more substantial options: beef jerky, protein bars, bags of nuts and seeds. For myself, I selected several more bags of Cajun barbecue chips, an unexpected addiction. She watched me movearound the room, her head turning to track my movements. The weight of her gaze was like a physical touch, a caress that made my skin prickle.
Harper smiled as I sat down beside her, close enough that I felt the warmth radiating from her body and smelled the intoxicating blend of floral, sea, and something uniquely her. She reached for a bottle of water, then selected a bag of jerky and a container of nuts, her fingers brushing against mine in the exchange. A brief contact that sent electricity racing up my arm.
"You really like those chips," she grinned as I tore into a bag with perhaps more enthusiasm than was dignified, the sharp scent of spices and artificial flavoring filling the air between us.
I grunted, my mouth full of the crunchy, flavor-laden discs, and swallowed, savoring the burn of spices on my tongue. "The flavor is extraordinary. We have nothing like this on my home... at home." I caught myself just in time, the slip nearly revealing more than I intended.
"What is your favorite food?" She asked, nibbling delicately on a piece of jerky, her white teeth tearing at the dried meat in a way that was somehow both innocent and utterly captivating.
