by Presley Hall
I can’t deny it any longer.
She is mine. Rhael. My mate, my other half. The other piece of my soul, come to me at last.
I almost say it. I’m so close, the words on the tip of my tongue, every part of me screaming that it’s time. That I need to claim her, to say the words out loud.
But then I look into her eyes, wide and dark and still faintly fogged with desire, and something in her gaze stops me.
I can see the nervousness there, the lingering fear. I can tell that part of her is still closed off to me, that she’s still fighting what she feels—and I know that she feels it too. But if I say the words aloud, I’m not sure what her response to them will be.
After all, she was adamant before that this is only physical. That we’re just two beings who desire one another, slaking their need. Taking pleasure where it’s offered. The same thing that other people do all the time, every day, without there being any deeper meaning behind it.
But I know there’s something deeper here. So if she needs more time to fully embrace it, I won’t push her. I can hardly blame her for being cautious, considering how callous and dismissive I was when we first met.
I was so focused on rescuing my prince and my fellow warriors that I didn’t give Felicity a real chance. I couldn’t see how truly incredible she is, how brave, resourceful, and resilient.
But I see it now. That, and so much more.
It takes every bit of discipline that I have in me to pull away from Felicity. Forcing my still-hard cock to leave her body is an almost physical pain. I understand what this is now—the mating lust, the driving urge to claim my mate again and again both to consummate the bond and increase the possibility of offspring.
The thought makes me clench my teeth. Now that I’ve recognized it, the bond will only grow stronger. Despite the cold, my erection refuses to recede. My cock stays rock hard within the dubious confines of my loincloth and protective furs, throbbing insistently as I step back from Felicity.
“We should… we should probably get moving again, in case that big cat thing has any more friends that might come sniffing around,” she murmurs.
The beautiful Terran woman presses away from the boulder, avoiding my gaze as she pulls her furs, leather wrappings, and cloak back into place.
Despite my vow to be patient, I have the strongest urge to pull her into my arms again, to claim her against this boulder again and again until the force of the connection between us has washed away all her fears.
Is it the bond that frightens her?
Or is it me?
I’m not sure what worries or doubts have caused her to close herself off again, erecting walls around her heart, but it makes me wonder if she might reject the bond. She could, of course—no Voxeran would ever force a mating bond. If she doesn’t want me as her mate, then there’s nothing I can or would do to coerce her. But the thought makes my chest squeeze painfully, an almost panicked need rising in my blood.
“You’re right. Let’s go,” I say, more gruffly than I intend to.
But between my insistently throbbing cock, my tangled emotions, and the fear that Felicity might not feel the same, I’m frustrated in every possible way. I feel like a longing youth instead of a hardened battle commander, and it’s not something I’m accustomed to.
Felicity nods, and we re-shoulder our packs, continuing back up the mountainside.
Time passes in slow increments as we trek up the mountainside, the route becoming more and more difficult.
There’s hardly a path at all anymore, just our own mapping of how to make it up to the towers, hampered by snow and fallen trees and rocks and the ever-present fear both of triggering an avalanche this high up and of more traps.
We spot several of those.
Felicity stops me once, pointing out a glimmering trip-wire strung low between two trees, and I pick out another one a while later, a mine planted in the ground and made to look like just another rock.
After that, we move as slowly as we can, scanning every bit of ground to make certain that we don’t accidentally trigger another disaster like the crevasse that opened up and separated us from the others. It means it will take longer to reach the peak, but time won’t matter if we don’t make it there at all.
When night begins to fall and daylight wanes, we make a small, huddled camp.
Although my body is aching with need for Felicity, there’s no question of my claiming her again. The wind has picked up, whipping around us and eliminating any possibility of a fire, so instead, I simply hold her close, the two of us huddling together to share as much body heat as possible. My cock throbs between us under the layers of leather and fur, hard and persistent, but I ignore it.
At some point, she manages to sleep, although I get little rest myself. Between my body’s frustrations and my worries about what might be lying in wait for us out in the darkness, sleep doesn’t come easily. The need to protect her overrides everything else, and I only drift off a few times before snapping back awake.
We start off again in the early gray dawn, as soon as there’s enough light to see what might be ahead of us, and it’s well into the afternoon when we see the surveillance tower gleaming above us as if it’s light from within. The bright sun reflecting off the snow and metal and nearly blinds us if we try to look at it straight on.
It’s a tall, wide cylindrical structure, with a spire coming out of the top of it, wrapped in discs of wire. There’s a thick wire fence surrounding the entire area, and from the faint hum that I can hear, I’m certain it’s electrified.
I don’t see any sign of guards posted, but that’s not particularly reassuring. There are all manner of ways that this place could be protected without the use of living sentries. It’s clear, from the electric fence surrounding it and the numerous traps we’ve seen on our way up, that the facility is well-protected.
I would almost prefer guards. At least a fight would be straightforward.
I glance over at Felicity, not wanting to speak in case it draws unwanted attention to us, and jerk my head toward the fence. She nods and gestures with her hand, indicating that I should lead and she’ll follow.
We make a good team, I think, well aware of how ironic that thought is, considering how fiercely I opposed her coming along on the mission in the first place.
But it’s true. We are a good team. And she’s every bit the fierce warrior Kaide told me the Terran women are, all those days ago back at the base camp.
Together, we push forward, creeping toward the fence surrounding the tower.
20
Felicity
Ren moves carefully through the snow toward the thick fence, and I can tell he’s scanning the ground before every footstep, making absolutely certain that neither of us will trip another booby trap and bring some new threat crashing down on us.
Good.
We can’t afford to stumble now. We’ve had plenty of setbacks on the way, but we’re so close—so damn close.
The electric fence is almost more of a wall, at least ten feet tall and made of several layers of metal mesh, making it impossible to see through. As we move closer, I can feel just how high-powered it really is. Even being this near to it is making the hairs on my arms stand up, the rest of my hair starting to frizz and rise as well. If we touch it, I’m fairly certain it will kill us.
We make our way around the perimeter of the fence, trying to find some way past it, or some way to slip inside, maybe some part of it that’s been damaged and is no longer active. Ren and I communicate mostly with gestures and hand signals, moving as quietly as we can, not wanting any sound to alert some kind of security system to our presence. There’s no telling what’s waiting for us here, or what the aliens in charge of this prison planet have in place to keep us out.
At first, it looks like there’s no possible way in, and my heart starts to sink.
If we can’t disable the security systems in this tower, then we can’t safely fly away from Vox. With so many pregnant wo
men, including his own mate, I’m not even sure if Droth will want to try.
Ren will feel as if he’s failed again. I can’t let that happen.
And I don’t want to fail either. I can feel the pressure of everyone’s expectations on my shoulders, everyone who wants off this murderous planet. I can’t fail, can’t allow the other women to have to give birth here. On Vox, there will be people who can help them, medicines and technology. Here, there’s only Elizabeth, and although she’s a skilled doctor, she has very little in the way of supplies and no kind of medical facility now that we’ve left the village behind.
Come on. Come on! There must be some way in. We can’t have come all this way for nothing.
I shoot a glance at the stoic Voxeran up ahead of me, catching sight of the same frustration in his face. Although his expression is neutral, his feelings are obvious in the tightness at the corners of his lips and the way his jade eyes glint. I’m a little surprised that I can read him so well after knowing him for such a relatively short time—but then again, the time we’ve spent together has been incredibly intense, on so many different levels.
Of course you can read him, a little voice whispers in my head. He’s your…
I push the thought aside. I’ve been grappling with that dawning realization ever since we fucked like wild animals against that frigid boulder, unable to help ourselves in the heat of the moment. I’m still afraid of fucking things up, of opening up my heart to love when everything else in my life has ended in disaster.
Just get through this mission. I blow out a frosty breath, scanning the terrain around us again. Get through this mission successfully, prove to yourself that you can succeed, that you can follow through. Then you can talk to Ren about what all of this means.
We continue onward around the fence, moving slowly as we try to pinpoint anything that might help.
And then, finally, I see it.
My breath catches, and I point urgently, catching Ren’s attention and gesturing toward what I just spotted. There’s a tree near the fence, one of the few that seem to grow this high up on the mountain. It’s taller than any of the others I’ve seen since the first day of our journey, and a few of its limbs have grown long enough to stretch over the high fence.
I move closer to Ren, keeping my voice low. “If one of us can climb that tree and get out onto the branches, then that person could drop down to the other side and find a way to turn off the fence. It might be our only possible way in.”
“That’s smart,” Ren says, narrowing his eyes as he levels an assessing look at the tree, and I feel a small flush of pleasure at his praise. “Good thinking, Felicity.” He starts to un-shoulder his pack, reaching for the ties that hold his cloak on. “All right. I’ll go over and look for the power source.”
“Wait!” I shake my head as I hiss the word, looking at the branches again. “You can’t. It has to be me. You’re too heavy. There’s a good chance that the limb will break under your weight, and you’ll crash down onto the fence. That charge is too strong even for you. It’ll badly injure or probably kill you.”
The broad-shouldered warrior opens his mouth to argue, and I glare at him, standing my ground.
“It has to be me,” I repeat firmly. “I’m smaller and lighter. That’s why I came along in the first place, remember? So that I could do the things that you warriors might not be able to? This is why I’m here. So let me do my part.”
Ren hesitates, and I can read the conflict in his face. I know that it’s not a conflict of a commander deciding who to send in and who to hold back. It’s the conflict of someone who cares deeply for me, someone who’s fighting against sending someone he wants to protect into danger.
Maybe even someone he… loves.
But I can’t think about that now. Just get through this mission first.
I stare Ren down, and finally, he relents. “All right,” he says, the reluctance still obvious in his voice. “You’ll go over. But I swear to all the gods, Felicity, if something happens to you—”
“It won’t,” I promise, and I hope with everything in me that I’m telling the truth.
Rather than responding with words, he grabs me, his palm sliding firmly around the back of my neck as he pulls me against him.
His mouth crashes down on mine in a hard, fierce kiss, and I kiss him back without stopping to think. The response is as natural as breathing, automatic and instinctive, but I can feel that this kiss is different.
This isn’t about desire, or need.
This is about something deeper. This is Ren’s fear that he might lose me, a last embrace before he sends me into danger.
This is about emotion, not lust.
It should frighten me, but right now, I’m feeling the same things. I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want to do any of this, but I know I have to.
So I cling to him for one final moment, memorizing the soft shape of his lips against mine and the taste of his mouth, the warm scent of him in the cold air, the ridged lines of his scars under my fingertips and the press of his forehead against mine.
I commit all of that to memory, and when I have no choice but to let go, I step back, panting slightly.
There’s so much I could say to him, so much that I want to say, that part of me wishes I already had. But now isn’t the time. If I’m careful and do this right, there will be time later.
I have to believe that.
“Be careful, my kira,” Ren tells me, his voice rough.
“I will,” I whisper with a nod. Then I shed my cloak and hurry toward the tree, afraid that if I linger any more, I’ll lose my nerve.
I’ve climbed trees before when I was younger, but not in a long time.
The bark is slick and icy, but I manage to make my way up, carefully placing my foot on each new branch, waiting to make sure that it isn’t dead or rotten before hauling myself up to the next. Everything in me screams to go faster, but I force myself to be slow and careful. Nothing will be solved by my falling and injuring myself.
Finally, I manage to make it far up enough to grab on to one of the branches that extend out over the fence. The base of it is thick and sturdy enough to support my weight, but I can see that it thins and tapers significantly as it goes farther out from the trunk, and I take a deep, shaky breath.
All I can do is keep going. There’s nothing else for it.
This is my mission, and I have to finish it.
I shimmy out onto the branch, feeling as if I can’t breathe as I start to move forward. The cold burns my eyes and my throat, and the humming fence below me sets every hair on my body on end.
I can feel the charge in the air.
Fuck. If I fall, it’ll fry me alive.
The image of my shuddering, jerking body trapped in the wire as I burn to a crisp makes my stomach lurch. I force that thought out of my head, because just a glimmer of it sends a rush of cold panic through me that threatens to freeze me in place, or worse, send me scuttling back down the tree.
I’ve never been all that brave. It was fear of the unknown that kept me from achieving the things I wanted back on Earth, the safe comfort of my addictions, of being trapped in a cycle of gambling away my money. Late bills and an empty bank account were easier to stomach than stepping out on a limb and trying to change my life.
But here I am, quite literally out on a limb, and this time, I can’t go back.
It’s time to be brave.
I’m not trying to prove something to Ren anymore. I don’t need to. But I do have something to prove to myself.
As I move down the tapering branch, I can feel it starting to bow under my weight, curving down toward the fence. With my panted breaths clouding the air in front of me, I start to move faster.
My heart surges up into my throat as I hear the limb begin to crack. I don’t dare look back to see how big the split is or how fast it’s cracking. All I can do is keep going.
Finally, when I can feel the limb starting to bow too low for safety, I l
et go, flinging myself off the branch and onto the snow covered dirt on this side of the fence. It takes everything in me to do it—I’m at least twelve feet up, and I’ve always been terrified of falling. But I force myself to let go, tucking my head as I tumble to the frozen, rocky ground.
The impact knocks all the air out of me, and I manage to look up just in time to see the limb break off, hitting the fence as it falls. Sparks fly in every direction as the tree limb bursts into flame, and I feel a sick nausea rising up as I stare at it, watching it fall into the snow with a kind of numb horror.
That could easily have been me. If I’d waited another second or two to jump, it would’ve been.
I just took a bigger gamble than I ever did back on Earth. But this time, it was for a purpose. It was calculated—not just chasing an imaginary feeling of control. I made a choice, and I followed through. I pushed through the fear and the fall into the unknown.
I did something that I can be proud of.
My lungs open up again, and I gasp, breathing in great freezing gulps of air as I stand up on shaky legs.
“Ren?” I call out weakly, knowing he’s trying to stay as hidden as possible, in case there are any cameras or anything else that could pick us up. If someone comes out after me, it’s best if they don’t know he’s here. But I still need his help to guide me to find the power source for the fence.
“I’m here,” Ren says, his words drifting to me over the partition that separates us.
I let out a small sigh. The sound of his voice is comforting, and I feel a renewed sense of strength as I start to walk along the inner edge of the fence.
“You’re going to be looking for the fuel cell that powers the fence. It’ll be slotted in, probably in one of the supports.”
“Okay, I see the supports,” I call softly. They’re set at even intervals, jutting out at a slight angle from the top of the fence and bracing against the ground.