“Beginning site documentation.” Her voice shifted to formal and precise. Clearly a method she’d used before. “Coordinates are…” She rattled off a string of numbers, then began a slow circuit around the probe, the device capturing visuals from multiple angles. “Object appears to be a reconnaissance probe of unknown manufacturer origin. Tear-shaped body, approximately forty centimeters in length. Brushed metal exterior, minimal weathering, suggesting recent deployment. Multiple sensor protrusions, currently dormant.”
She continued her methodical documentation, adding notes about the terrain, the position of the probe relative to surrounding landmarks, the energy readings her scanner had detected. I watched her work, impressed despite myself. This wasn’t improvisation. This was the product of training and experience, a systematic approach developed over years of fieldwork.
When she’d completed her circuit, she crouched down to capture the underside of the probe, zooming in on the Brakken symbols. “Markings consistent with Brakken language, per local expert consultation. Appear to be designation and serial number rather than operational text. Full linguistic analysis recommended.”
Local expert. That would be me. I was hardly an expert. And what I knew of the Brakken had not been learned through study, but through combat. Fear. Grief.
She powered down the device and tucked it back into her pack, then stood and faced me.
“We should go back,” she said. “The sooner this information reaches people who can act on it, the better.”
“Agreed.”
But she didn’t move toward the Raycer immediately. Instead, she reached into her pack and pulled out the chocolate bar I’d given her. The one she’d tucked away so carefully just minutes ago.
She broke off a single square, the snap of the chocolate crisp in the quiet air. Then she put it in her mouth and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was smiling.
It wasn’t a big smile. Just a small curve of her lips, a softening around her eyes. But it transformed her face completely. Made her look younger, warmer. Made her look like someone I needed to know better, not at all the icy operative.
“It’s delicious,” she said.
My mouth went dry. Heat spread through my chest. The intensity of my focus on her and the way my heart raced had nothing to do with the Brakken.
I knew my face was giving away everything I felt. The colors shifting across my skin would be broadcasting my emotions, if she knew how to read them. Destran skin betrayed us from the moment we were born. We learned early that concealing our feelings was pointless, so we simply didn’t try. We felt what we felt, openly and honestly, and let the world see it.
Right now, the world, or at least Iris, could see that I was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered. Like she was the answer to a question I hadn’t known I was asking.
I held myself back from saying what I was thinking. From telling her what I was beginning to suspect with a certainty that shook me to my core.
I may have met my mate.
The rush of feeling was strong. Fierce. Nearly violent in its potency. This wasn’t a crush or an infatuation, the passing attractions that other species seemed to experience so casually. Destrans didn’t work that way. True feelings happened once in a Destran’s life. When we found our mate, we knew. The bond wasimmediate and undeniable, written in our very biology. Seared into our skin with marks that only appeared when we touched our mate for the first time. I felt no burn on my skin to indicate such marks, yet, but the Destran-human bonds I’d known of didn’t follow typical patterns. It was only a matter of time before I did. I was sure of it.
“We need to leave,” Iris said, and there was something careful in her voice that made me wonder if she’d noticed my reaction and wasn’t sure what to do with it. She waved a hand in front of my face, breaking my trance. “Baleck. Are you with me?”
“Yes.” I shook myself, forcing my body to move. “Yes, I’m with you.”
We crossed to the Raycer, and Iris swung onto the front seat with fluid grace. I climbed on behind her, settling into position, my thighs wrapping around hers once again. The contact sent a jolt through my body. Every point where we touched felt electric, significant, like my skin was trying to tell me something I already knew.
She started the Raycer, the familiar purr of the engine vibrating through us both. The energy shield shimmered into existence around us and she hit the accelerator. We shot forward across the rocky terrain and I let my mind settle into the reality of what had just happened. Not just the Brakken probe and its terrifying implications. Not just the mission we were returning from. But this. Her. The female in front of me who rarely smiled and kept herself carefully contained.
Destiny was not going easy on me. My mate would not be easy to win over. She had walls higher than any I’d encountered. Defenses more complex than any security system. She didn’t want connection. Didn’t want attachment. Didn’t want any of the things that I would need to give her if we were going to have any chance at all.
But I was a communications specialist. Building bridges was what I did. Finding common ground, creating understanding, forging connections where none existed before. It was my greatest skill, the thing I’d devoted my life to mastering.
I would have to use every bit of that skill if I had any chance of showing Iris that we were mates. The connection would not be one sided. It never was.
The wind rushed past us as Iris guided the Raycer toward the tunnel that would take us back through the mountain. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of her hair, that interesting mix that was becoming as familiar to me as the scent of my own Sola.
I intended to try. However difficult it proved to be, I had to try.
CHAPTER 7
IRIS
The communications center was a repurposed storage room in the guest quarters, cramped with equipment that had been hastily assembled from the supplies left by the diplomatic transport. Cables snaked across the stone floor. Monitors flickered with data streams. The air smelled of heated electronics and the occasional waft of fresh air from the otherwise lovely D’tran settlement.
