The windows were tinted, preventing most humans from seeing through them. But my vision was sharper, and I could make out the four males occupying each vehicle.
They sat too still, too alert. Watching.
The wind shifted, carrying their scent despite the downpour. Underneath the smell of rain and salty air, I caught the particular combination of tactical gear and the sharp chemical residue that clung to those who handled weapons regularly. These men smelled like warriors.
My hand instinctively moved to where my own weapon would normally be holstered, finding only the unfamiliar fabricof the human jacket. The tingling along my spine intensified, but this time it had nothing to do with the female. It was my warrior's instinct, the one that had kept me alive through more battles than I could count.
I slipped down a side street, approaching the house from a direction that kept me from their sight. The stairs creaked slightly as I ascended, the sound lost in the wind.
A large yellow sign with bright blue letters bade me,Welcome to the Beach. I lifted my hand and knocked.
For a moment, nothing happened, and I wondered if I'd performed the announcement of my presence incorrectly, although I'd done exactly as Maddie instructed. Then I caught the faint patter of feet approaching, and the door swung open.
She was even more beautiful in person.
The holo image hadn't captured the richness of her hair—dark auburn waves that caught the gray storm light and turned it to burnished copper. It tumbled past her shoulders in soft waves that looked like they'd be warm to the touch. The small dots across her nose and cheeks were fainter in person, scattering across her skin like stars. Her eyes were the bright, clear blue of my home world's summer sky, wide and framed by dark lashes.
She was small—the top of her head barely reached my chest—with curves that the image had only hinted at. Soft, feminine, perfectly proportioned. She wore simple human clothing, jeans like mine, and a thick, long-sleeved, dark blue shirt that was too big for her tiny frame.
Then, her scent hit me.
Sweet and floral, like the night-blooming flowers that grew near the caves of my youth, but with something uniquely her—fresh and clean with an underlying warmth that made me want to step closer, to breathe deeper. It wrapped around me like a physical touch, and the tip of my spine didn't just tingle.
It ignited.
The sensation shot along my vertebrae like lightning, so intense I nearly staggered. Every instinct I possessed roared to life at once.
Mine.
Protect.
Claim.
Keep.
My heart hammered against my ribs, hands trembling with the need to reach for her.
No, this couldn't be right. She was Xytol's mate. My brother claimed her.
I forced myself to remain still, to keep my expression neutral even as my entire body sang with recognition.
"Can I help you?" She asked, her voice sounding like music, even though wariness clouded her eyes.
I squared my shoulders, fighting the strange new sensations that threatened my calm.
"My name is Xabat," I said. "My brother Xytol sent me."
Her hand flew to her mouth, shock evident on her beautiful face. "Xabat," she repeated my name, and the sound of it on her lips nearly undid me. "I thought... Xytol told me that the two of you were separated. He didn't know if you were alive."
As she spoke, she stepped back from the threshold, her small hand sweeping in a graceful arc to gesture me inside. The interior of her home enveloped me immediately. Warm air, soft lamplight casting golden pools across hardwood floors scattered with colorful woven rugs. The space felt lived in and welcoming, with overstuffed furniture in shades of cream and seafoam, shelves lined with books and seashells, and framed images clustered on every available surface.
"This is true. My brother and I were separated during travel many years ago. I, too, wondered if he lived. Thankfully, I received a message from him a few days ago." I parsed my wordscarefully, measuring each syllable, and ensured I used Earth measurements of time that would make sense to her.
"Is he okay?" The worry that creased her brow and tightened the corners of her mouth told me she cared for my brother deeply. The knowledge should have calmed the tingling along my spine, should have reminded me of my duty and place. Instead, it only intensified, spreading like wildfire through my nervous system until my entire body thrummed with awareness of her.
"I haven't heard from him in days," she continued, anxiety threading through her voice.
"He was worried about you," I said, the words emerging rougher than I intended. "He asked me to find you. To help you. He feared you might be in danger." I didn't tell her I believed my brother was dead, that his message had carried the weight of finality. "I promised him that I would find you."
