by Presley Hall
But then the moment breaks.
She blinks and makes a quiet, startled sound in her throat. She shakes her head as though clearing it of fog and pulls back.
“I… I can’t be mated to you,” she says. “I can’t do this, Axen.”
I’m not prepared for the blow this time, so I can’t mask the pain her words cause. Something must show on my face, because she winces. She doesn’t like causing me pain, I can tell that, but if she doesn’t want to hurt me, then why—?
“It’s not you,” she adds quickly. “Really. It’s me. It’s my problem.”
That can’t be right. She could never be the problem. I open my mouth to say so, but another look from her silences me.
“I just can’t handle this kind of thing.” Her throat works as she swallows. “The bond. Not with… not with the way things are right now.”
I frown. The way things are? She is so strong. She’s a warrior. I know she could overcome anything. We could overcome anything together. I would do whatever it took to fight at her side.
If she’s afraid of the raiders returning, I will slaughter every last one of them. If she’s afraid of me dying, I will come back stronger than ever. Whatever she’s afraid of, I can overcome it.
“I’m still going to help you,” she promises, giving me an unsteady smile. “You’re my patient, and I want to make sure you make a full recovery.”
I can’t do anything but nod stiffly. Her dedication to healing me is kind and noble, but I don’t want to be her patient. I want to be her everything.
“A mate bond is sacred,” I tell her. “I would never force myself on anyone, especially you. If you don’t want me, the bond won’t override that. If…”
My voice breaks off, unwilling to utter the words. I want to look away, but the idea of showing her such weakness stops me. She needs to know I’m strong. If she’s so afraid, she needs to see that I am not.
“I will respect your wishes, Elizabeth,” I say, the word kira stuck on my tongue, bitten back. “If you truly don’t want to be my mate, I will accept that.”
She stares at me for a long moment before she nods, her shoulders dropping in relief. “Thank you. I promise I’ll take good care of you. I owe you so much for saving my life.”
Her words twist in my chest, soothing and stinging at the same time. I know she is a good doctor, and that under her care, my body will heal.
But I’m not sure my heart ever will.
11
Elizabeth
Axen is still gazing at me with those magnetic amber eyes, and I make an effort to keep my expression calm and controlled, even though I feel like I’ve been caught in a tornado and am spinning wildly in the air. Logically, I know that the mate bond thing is a matter of choice, but it was still a relief to hear him say it.
I push to my feet, ignoring the wobble in my knees. “Roll onto your back. I need to check your other injuries.”
He nods, saying nothing. I check the bruising along his side, the various cuts and wounds on his shoulders, his arms, and the one on his stomach. They’re all healing nicely. I can feel his eyes on me, unblinking as he gazes at me with such an intensity it makes my cheeks go warm. I try not to pay attention to how muscled and strong he is, how his scent fills my lungs, or how his skin, damp with sweat and surprisingly smooth, feels under my hands.
I try not to notice, but I can’t help it.
My wrist tingles where he touched me, and when I stand and lean over him, I’m hyper-aware of how close we are. How he shivers helplessly when my hair brushes his chest. How my own tears have left streaks on his skin, which makes me remember how warm he was when he held me, the soothing thrum of his heartbeat, the way his voice seemed to vibrate straight through my body, touching the very deepest part of me.
The way he’s looking at me and the memory of his strong hands makes other parts of me feel warm and very aware of him. It’s a powerful feeling, one that makes me want to touch him forever, to put my mouth on his and straddle his thighs. I want to feel how big and warm he is, how large his hands might feel on my hips and my back, my thighs, in my hair. My fingers stutter as I check his wounds, overwhelmed with the desire to just reach out and take.
I straighten up before I can do something stupid like kiss him or straddle him, pushing my hair back.
“I’ll come back soon to check on you again,” I tell him. “I want you to heal, and I’ll do whatever I can to make that happen.” I meet his eyes, hoping to see my words land. “The village needs you, Axen. You can’t go running around tearing your stitches or exacerbating your injuries anymore, okay?”
He nods. Still mute. I want him to talk to me, to say something, but it seems he’s said his piece and now it’s done. Which I suppose is only fair. I’m the one who refused to accept our mate bond. I can’t do it—I can’t let him claim me as his own or take him as mine, so I have no right to demand he talk to me beyond bare courtesy.
I try not to think about how much that stings.
Turning around, I start to leave his hut, then hesitate few feet from the door. I look back over my shoulder and find him watching me.
“Axen,” I whisper, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “Thank you… for saving my life. I didn’t get a chance to say it before, but thank you. I’ll never forget what you did for me.”
He stares at me, and something seems to shift in his features. It’s the same raw, primal gaze I’ve seen him wear while fighting. It’s full of need, of predatory focus, and I shiver under the heat of it.
His voice, when it comes out, is closer to a growl than anything else. “Of course.”
I stare at him. Everything in me wants to run back to him and touch him, to let him touch me. I want to put my hands back on his chest and feel his powerful, gentle grip in my hair, running down my back. I want him to talk, to whisper more of those sweet words, so soothing even as every other part of me flares with heat. I can’t help thinking about the sound of his snarl, how it might vibrate down every vertebrae and settle directly in my core.
It’s so strong, the need to be close to him. Like hunger or thirst, like the need to breathe. An invisible thread seems to stretch between us, as if there’s a hook in my chest pulling me toward him.
I finally pull myself together and leave. The air outside is bracing and makes me grimace. My head is spinning and my breath is coming fast. Every step feels like a mile, like there’s a stone around my ankles weighing me down.
I could go back. I could just say to hell with it all, go back into his cabin, and wrap my arms around him. I could let him touch me, kiss me, pin me down, and show me just how strong he is. I could let him growl in my ear and suck bruises into my neck and thighs. I could find out just what Voxerans are like beneath their loincloth; I could teach him about our anatomy.
God, I could do all of that and more, and I’m sure it would be amazing. I feel drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
But that’s how people get fucking burned.
I’ve never been the type of girl who believed in fairy tales. Evidence and experience taught me that’s not the way the world works. The mate bond doesn’t fit in with anything I’ve ever known—not with who I am or how I’ve lived my life. I’ve always stopped and considered before taking a leap. I don’t do anything spontaneous. And the one time I did? Well…
My hand unconsciously goes to my belly.
Now I’m suffering the consequences for my moment of recklessness back on Earth.
Thoughts keep swirling in my head, growing more tangled and jumbled with each step I take. Slowly, I make my way back to the women’s lodgings on autopilot, my mind a mess and my body still burning from the memory of Axen’s touch.
The next day, I go back to Axen’s cabin. He promised me that he wouldn’t leave it again until his healing had progressed more, and I’m sure he could use the company. God knows I would be going stir crazy if I was confined to a small cabin knowing that there were things to be done out in the rest of the settlemen
t. I’m not completely sure he’ll actually keep his promise anyway, so I slip out in the early morning, sure that I’ll either catch him in the act of helping the others or he’ll be sound asleep.
When I open the door and let myself in, he’s on his feet, pacing around his little hut. The stitches are seeping again.
My eyes narrow in aggravation as he comes to a halt and meets my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I demand, stepping inside.
“I didn’t leave the hut,” he replies, with a trace of petulance. His shoulders are hunched up almost defensively, and I can see tension rippling in his muscles. I don’t know if it’s from pain or frustration or both, but either way, it’s not doing him any good.
“That’s not good enough. You need to lie down and truly rest and heal. I’m not the kind of woman that likes loopholes, Axen.”
He blinks, cocking his head at me in the way the Voxerans do sometimes when one of the human women uses a word or phrase that doesn’t have a direct translation. But he must get the gist of my meaning, because he merely grunts and looks down guiltily.
I point to his bed. “Get on your back.”
His eyes snap up, pupils flaring wide and gaze blazing with heat. He tilts his head, a ghost of a suggestive smile on his face. The look makes my cheeks grow warm, and my stomach flips as I realize how that sounded. In spite of myself, my body responds to the open lust in his eyes, to the raw strength and masculinity that he exudes even in his wounded state.
I swallow and shove the rush of arousal down as hard as I can.
Focus, Elizabeth. Come on.
Axen moves a moment later and obediently lies on his back, his gaze never once leaving me. I go to him and crouch down beside the bed to check his stitches. His focus drops to the way my thighs have to spread a little to allow me to settle on my heels. I do my best to ignore it, even though every cell in my body seems aware of him, and I know my skirt is riding up because I can’t figure out how to make it sit low and stay put for the life of me.
His stitches held, so they don’t need to be redone again. I breathe a sigh of relief and find my fingers lingering on the edges of his wound. I just… need to check that they’re okay.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. I tell myself there could be internal bleeding or an infection, even though I’m almost certain neither of those things is the case. But it’s easier to pretend I’m worried about his medical prognosis than to admit the truth.
I just can’t stop touching him.
A subtle motion catches my attention, and I lift my eyes to find that while I’ve been checking him, Axen’s body has been responding to my proximity just as mine has to him. I bite my lower lip, my heart racing in my chest when I see that his loincloth has moved, bulging a little from his thickening erection. His cock is still covered, but I can tell it’s huge.
My breath catches in my throat, and my hand presses flat against his side. He tenses, but I don’t think it’s from pain.
I’m so aware of how his skin feels under my hands, the muscles responding to every flutter of my lashes and twitch of my mouth. I can’t stop staring, thinking about how big he must be, how good it would feel to touch his swelling length, to see him respond to me just like he’s doing now. To have those eyes on me as he slid inside me, and how perfectly he would fill me up.
A flash of heat hits me like a damn bullet, spreading out through my lower stomach in waves of arousal.
Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
I breathe out shakily, one hand twitching unconsciously toward his loincloth. Curiosity, fascination—I can tell myself that those emotions are what make me want to look, the need to study these aliens and learn more about them. But that’s not it.
It’s desire. Pure and simple.
The connection between us is so strong that it seems to override everything else.
Axen lets out a low growl, drawing my attention up to his face. His jaw is clenched, eyes open just enough to watch me. When our gazes meet, his cock jerks again, and I hurriedly straighten and take a step back. I try to gather myself, but my legs are weak, and I’m pretty sure my face is flushed bright red.
“I meant what I said,” I say weakly. “I can’t…”
He nods. “I know.” His voice is just as hoarse, just as coated with naked desire. “And I meant what I said. I will respect your wishes. But I can’t help how I respond to you, Elizabeth. I will always want you. I’ll never force you, but I can’t stop wanting you either.”
I press my lips together, my stomach flipping and dropping like I’m on a rollercoaster. It’s all too much. I can’t think straight. Muttering some barely intelligible words about how I’ll be back to check on him later, I slip out of the hut. Once outside, I suck in several deep breaths, trying to let the fresh air clear my head. It helps, but not much.
Axen meant what he said. I’m certain of it. The sincerity, the earnestness, the sheer evidence of our connection is undeniable.
He will always want me, and it’s very likely that I’ll always want him.
I have no idea how to feel about that, and even less idea of how to deal with it.
12
Axen
Over the next several days, I heal slowly but steadily.
It’s agonizing being bedridden for so long. Feeling useless and idle is making me more agitated than I’ve ever been in my life. I know that there are medicines and technology that would have healed me in no time back on Vox, but they don’t exist on Nuthora, and there is no way to get them.
So I have to lie down and rest, and I slanching hate it. Not even Elizabeth’s daily visits and her help and encouragement soothes that stinging barb. If anything, it almost makes me feel worse.
It’s because I’m weak that my mate doesn’t want me. I can’t show her how strong I am, how capable I am. I have no way to prove to her that I can protect her, and she doesn’t want me—but the air is electric whenever we are together.
It drives me to distraction and puts me in a terrible mood, which doesn’t help the frustration I feel about everything else. Whenever I’ve felt restless in the past, I’ve hunted or sparred, but I can’t do anything like that now. I just have to sit and wait for my body to finish healing itself.
I can’t protect my people, and I can’t have my mate. There is no release for the bubbling, visceral frustration that builds up in me by the day.
On the eighth day after the raider attack, Elizabeth comes as she always does to check on me and my stitches. I’m vibrating with the need to control myself. I promised I wouldn’t force her, but my dreams are far less concerned with the reality of our situation. In my dreams, she is willing and ready for me. She kisses me after I win a fight to the death and lets me claim her right in the open on the battlefield. In my dreams, she screams and sighs with pleasure as I fill her over and over, and I am strong. I am unstoppable. I am wanted.
Reality is far less forgiving.
“These are really healing up nicely,” she notes. The happiness in her voice is reassuring to hear, and her gentle smile is beautiful, but it doesn’t help my mood at all.
“Not fast enough,” I grunt.
My fists clench. It’s taking everything I have not to touch her, to keep my hands from roaming over her body. I could lift her in my arms—I wouldn’t even care what happened to the stitches. I could lift her and pin her to the wall and fill her with my cock. I could show her how strong and capable I am.
But, as always, I can’t show her that. I can’t do anything. Gemma and Kzuri are still missing, the village is being rebuilt without me, and we may come under attack at any moment.
I want to do something. Anything. I’d kill for the chance.
Elizabeth arches a brow at me, one corner of her mouth tilting up. “Can’t rush perfection. Is that a saying you Voxerans are familiar with?”
I huff a breath. “No. And I don’t need perfection, I just need to get out of this slanching hut.”
More words rest
on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back. I don’t want to be angry and harsh with her. A mate should never take his anger out on his partner.
Elizabeth tosses her soft brown hair over one shoulder and fixes me with a stubborn look. Then she sighs, her expression softening. “Look, Axen, I understand. I’ve had patients who want to get up and go right away. It’s frustrating, I get that, but if you do something that undoes all the hard work your body is doing right now, you’ll be stuck in this cabin for twice as long.”
I bare my teeth in a grimace, my eyes narrowing. “At least I would be useful.”
She goes quiet for a moment, her head cocked to one side as she considers me. Finally, she speaks again, her voice low. “I really am sorry. I know how you feel.”
I open my mouth to tell her that she doesn’t, there’s no way she could understand how I feel—she’s not the one whose mate rejected them and whose brothers are having to make do without them—but she stops me by holding up a hand. My lips press closed, and I wait to hear what she has to say.
“Back on Earth,” she murmurs, “I had a purpose. I knew what I was doing. But here?” She sighs and shakes her head, a wry smile curving her lips. “I’m just floundering.”
I tilt my head, unsure what she means.
“There’s so much here that I can’t do because I don’t have the equipment,” she continues. “I spent a long time in medical school learning how to help people, and here, with so many new and unfamiliar things, it feels like half of what I learned is useless. So I guess I’m just saying… I get it. You can’t do things because you need to heal. I can’t do certain things because I don’t have the supplies, and in the end, we both just want to help and be useful. And yeah, it’s really fucking frustrating that we’re not able to.”
I let out a breath, clearing my lungs as I nod. “You do understand.”