by Presley Hall
Hesitantly, she takes my hand, and I pull her up to stand beside me. She takes a step backward, watching me warily. Before, I think she was more curious about me than afraid of me, but now that isn’t so true.
I can’t blame her.
She is delicate, and I am not. She has flat fangs, and I do not. She’s easily half my size. If I wanted to kill her, it wouldn’t be difficult, and I’m sure she’s aware of that—yet she’s not running.
I don’t scare her too badly, then. Either that or she is incredibly brave.
Pain flares as I move, and I look away from my mate to take stock of my injuries. There’s a large gash on my arm, but nothing else. After taking on a gicnuk single-handedly, I consider myself lucky to still have all my limbs.
I cast my gaze on my mate once more and find her watching me. With careful movements, I unhook the small water skin from the sling around my hips. It is a solid canister made from a petrus gourd, not too large and cumbersome. I uncap it with my teeth and start pouring the water over the gash that runs from my elbow to the top of my shoulder. The position is a little awkward, but nothing too bad. I’m just grateful it isn’t on my back.
As I scrub the drying blood away from the gash, my mate takes a hesitant step forward and holds out her hands. For a moment, I think she’s asking for a drink, but then I see that her eyes are trained on the cut, her expression soft.
Her concern is like a balm, soothing something in my soul that I didn’t even realize existed before now.
She cares. She wants to help.
I hesitate for only a second before handing my mate the water skin, and she takes it and walks around behind me. I can’t see what she’s doing from this vantage, but I can feel the cool water running over the back of my neck, my shoulder, my ribs, and my spine.
When her hand moves against my skin, washing blood and dirt away, I clench my jaw, my body going rigid.
I would never have imagined that such a simple thing as this could feel so good, but it does. Her fingertips are like fire licking along my skin, and I almost sink to the ground when she presses lightly against the muscles of my shoulders. My cock starts to twitch, even though she’s barely touching me. It takes only seconds for my entire length to swell, the need inside me rising so suddenly and powerfully that it borders on pain.
I need to get a grip on myself. If my cock responds like this every time she touches me, no matter how lightly, then I will have a serious problem functioning on a day-to-day basis.
My jaw clenches, my entire body aching with the need to turn around and draw her into my arms. To feel her lips. To taste every bit of her skin.
To claim her.
The urge is so strong it’s almost overwhelming, eating away at my willpower.
I need to keep my hands busy, keep my mind otherwise occupied. So I reach into the other side of my hip sling and pull out the binding agent that my men and I all carry around for situations such as this. Clearing my throat, I reach behind my back to hand her the tiny syringe. Inside is a clear liquid with microscopic polymers populating the fluid. They sell the stuff in the outer market of Pascia, the city nearest to our settlement, and it’s one of the few things that I make a point to buy when I can.
When my mate doesn’t immediately grab the little tube, I look over my shoulder at her. She’s frowning at my hand like she doesn’t know what she’s looking at. Maybe she doesn’t. I have no idea if this technology is available on her planet.
“Just put it on my wound. The skin will join.”
I gesture to it and make a closing motion with my fist. She tilts her head and considers me for a moment before she takes the syringe out of my palm and presses it to the large cut.
As soon as the solution hits my skin, the wound starts to tingle. I can’t see it, but I know that the material from the syringe is spreading and binding, adhering the skin together along the line of the gash.
I hear my mate give a little gasp behind me, and I glance over my shoulder just in time to see her mouth drop open as she studies my back.
She reaches out tentatively, and I stay absolutely still while she feeds her curiosity. I expect her to touch the now-closed wound, but instead, her hand grazes over one of the small, raised nodes along my spine. My entire body shivers as lightning arcs from my back to my groin.
In the span of less than an hour, this female has managed to harden me to the point of pain more than once.
She murmurs something in her lilting voice, sounding amazed. Moving away from my nodes, her fingers begin to trace the patterns of my markings. Up my shoulder, along the back of my neck, down the dip of my ribs.
It’s torture trying to stay still as she explores me, and I can only assume she doesn’t know what her touch is doing to me. I would like nothing more than to snatch her hands up and explore her body in kind.
But no matter how much heat she lights in me, I will not frighten her.
She moves her delicate fingertips down my lower back to my hips, and they jerk forward involuntarily. For a fleeting moment, I can vividly imagine her panting against a tree with her legs wrapped around me. It would feel so good for both of us.
I would give her everything, make her delusional with euphoria, claim her as my own.
Akhi. I need to master myself before I do something that I’ll regret.
As if determined to test the last thread of my resolve, my mate traces the markings running up the small of my back, and the coil in my gut threatens to unleash.
It’s too much. I take several steps away from her and hunch over, desperately trying to still my pulsing manhood. My cock leaks small droplets of seed through my loincloth, and as I try to gain control of myself, I hear her speak again behind me.
Her footsteps approach, and I want to throw my hand out in warning.
If she touches me again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to contain this maddening, pulsating pull. I don’t want to scare her off. I’ve never been so wild with need in my life.
“Ar yu okae?” Her voice is small and concerned. Her foreign tongue sounds so exotic, lilting and soft. From the corner of my eye, I see her reach for me.
Gods, give me strength.
I’m so distracted by the push and pull of my internal battle that I almost miss the slight rustling of the leaves nearby. I look up as several of my men emerge from the forest.
“Droth! We saw the gicnuk you brought down. Are you—”
Xevar’s voice breaks off as he catches sight of me and my mate. His eyes widen, his lips curling back in a snarl. A collective shout rises up from my men, and they surround us, spears pointed directly at my mate.
Slanch.
She still has streaks of my blood on her hands, and they’ve gotten the wrong idea. As small and fragile-looking as she is, anyone on this prison planet can be a threat. We’ve all learned that the hard way.
I have no time to think, no time to assure them that my mate would never harm me.
Weapons are raised, and I only have a moment to react.
Wrapping one arm around the female’s waist, I tuck her against my side. The roar that falls from my lips this time is louder than the sound I made when the gicnuk came thrashing through the woods with rage in its eyes.
It’s louder than any sound I’ve ever made.
11
Charlotte
Dammit.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse, now we’re surrounded by a hoard of aliens.
For a moment, I can’t do anything but cling to the big alien beside me. My heart is pounding so hard that my chest hurts, and the roar that the man lets out makes my ears ring.
The guy I’m holding on to is the bravest person I’ve ever seen. We’re easily outnumbered, two to seven, but he’s standing tall against all of them.
Well, if we’re trapped and going to die, then at least we can put up a fight. I’m not going to let the man who’s saved me twice now protect me while I stand by and do nothing.
Despite the way my hands shake, I
unwrap my arms from around him and eyeball the ground. There’s a good-sized rock just to my left. I may not be able to snatch a spear from one of the aliens, and I may not be able to fight for crap, but I can still try to knock one out. Trying is better than not trying.
I look up at the alien directly in front of us, a massive brute of a man wearing a deep frown. He looks powerful and dangerous. He looks…
Oh God, he looks like my alien.
Same markings, same basic facial structure, same eyes.
They all look like my new blue-skinned friend, though the exact tint of their skin and hair color varies. I look up at my alien—it’s strange to think of him like that, but I do—and find that he and the big one in front of us are staring each other down.
Nobody moves, but I’m not taking any chances just in case they decide to.
I snatch the rock beside my feet and scurry behind my alien so that we’re back-to-back. I squeeze the small stone in my hand and stare at the aliens that I face now. Even the slimmest of them is still much bigger than I am, larger than most of the men that I knew back on Earth. If this goes badly, there isn’t a chance in hell that we’ll make it out alive. But I have to try.
Fuck, this is more terrifying than the bird. Can’t be brave if you’re not afraid, I guess.
Then I feel the rumble of my alien’s voice against my back. It’s a gravelly sound, and with our bodies pressed together, I feel the quake of it against my skin. I have no clue what he’s saying, but I can see the results immediately.
The aliens in my line of sight all relax a little. They’re still aiming their sharp spears at me, but their expressions are beginning to clear, turning from angry to confused. One of the smaller ones—if you can call any of these guys small—leans against his spear and squints at me, like I’m something to be studied.
My alien speaks again. This time his voice is low and solemn, and a ripple moves through the gathered men.
Their confused expressions turn to surprise, and they start looking at each other, some with slack jaws, some with thoughtful frowns. Then they all turn their focus directly on me.
I’ve been to plenty of political debates and rallies before with Joseph to watch him speak, and I know how to read a crowd. Whatever my alien just said to these men, it was shocking or amazing—maybe both. Every face pointed at me looks awed. The man that was squinting at me before actually grins and nudges the one next to him with his elbow before whispering something. The alien on the other side of him smacks him upside the head with the butt of his spear.
Shit, what did my rescuer tell these guys?
As if sensing my thoughts, the alien at my back shifts, and I look up to see him turning fully toward me. I turn to face him too, giving the other aliens my back. I don’t let go of my rock.
“Unduwa rue?”
He’s pointing at me, and after a moment, he seems to remember that we’ve already established that I can’t understand a word of what he was saying.
“Ahh…” He bares his teeth and places a hand against his chest. “Droth.” Then he places that same hand against my heart, which stutters against his palm. “Rue?” he repeats.
If I have to guess, he’s asking for my name. He might be saying something completely unrelated to names, but I’m going to go with my gut on this one. And honestly, I hope I’m right. I want to find out his name too.
“Charlotte Navarro,” I say, putting my hand against my chest. And just to make sure we’re on the same page, I thump my chest. “Charlotte.” And then I touch his chest. “Droth.”
Droth.
What an odd name. It suits him though. Sharp. To the point.
“Shar-lete Neevaro.” Droth says it slowly, and it isn’t quite right, but it’s close enough, so I nod.
“Qu.” He gestures with his hand as he speaks, making a motion that clearly says “come with me.”
Um. Really?
I’m totally lost on an alien planet, separated from my fellow humans, completely surrounded by a half-dozen alien warriors in loincloths. And he wants me to come with him?
“Shar-lete Neevaro, qu.” He waves his hand again and walks backward, his gaze still holding mine. “Qu, est huue.”
He’s smiling and holding out his hand now, and I feel a strange tug somewhere around my middle, like some invisible force is drawing me toward him.
But I was born and raised in Chicago. It’s far from the most dangerous city out there, but my parents made sure I knew how to protect myself and make smart choices.
And I’ve rarely heard of a lone woman going anywhere with a bunch of strange men and ending up okay.
I should run. That’s what you’re supposed to do in these situations. I only came back before to make sure Droth wasn’t dead, and now that I know he’s not, I should get the hell out of there while I still can.
I don’t realize I’m backing away until Droth’s face drops. His hand slackens a little, and he looks almost… lost. I don’t like that hurt expression on his face, and I want to make it go away.
My weight shifts from foot to foot as I stare at him, lower lip clamped between my teeth as I consider my options.
If I run, odds are low that I’ll ever make it back to the other women. That bird carried me for quite a while before it dropped me, and I got so turned around while dangling from its talons that I don’t even know which direction I need to go to get back to the ship. What’s more, that bird might even be tame in comparison to some of the other animals lurking in the forest.
Against everything I’ve ever been taught, every rational thought in my head, I take a step toward the alien. I don’t know if I can trust him completely—for all I know, he’s taking me to his home to enslave me or eat me—but I don’t feel like I’m in danger with him.
He risked his life for me. He saved me. That means something. It’s got to.
A slightly manic smile tugs at my lips. Well, I suppose I’m due for another death scare soon anyway.
“Okay,” I murmur, letting out a breath. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”
Stepping forward, I reach out to take his offered hand. Droth’s broad smile lights up his face as his fingers wrap gently around mine.
As our palms meet, that unfamiliar feeling curls in my belly again.
Warmth.
Desire.
Comfort.
The rock I picked up earlier slips from the fingers of my other hand and falls to the ground with a thud.
12
Droth
As relieved as I am that Charlotte has agreed to come with me back to my village, we’re held up momentarily as I direct my men to clean and dress the dead gicnuk.
She stands close to me as I speak quietly with Xevar, and I’m careful to keep my focus on him. If I let my eyes wander, I’ll start staring at my mate again, and then I’ll get hard… again.
I can’t help it.
One look at her, at her slim legs, her big eyes, her rounded backside, and it just happens.
Xevar nods as I finish giving him instructions. He turns away, raising his hand. “Zayre! Rath! You’re with me!”
The men gather around the felled bird, beginning the arduous task of butchering the massive creature. Charlotte watches curiously, her lips slightly parted as her gaze tracks their movements.
If I suspected her of being royalty from some far away land before, now I’m almost completely sure. It’s in the way she carries herself. In the brave way she faced my own men by my side when she thought they might be a threat. In her long and elegant name.
Five syllables. Not one, but five.
A name so regal sounding has to be some sort of royal marker.
I think about what her kingdom must look like, and then I assure myself that even if her people came looking for her and took her away from Nuthora, I would go too. We all would. It would be a relief to leave this desolate, vicious planet.
If my mate sought to broaden her kingdom’s horizons by making alliances, I would point her to Vox. Then maybe we c
ould dismantle the corruption that I sought to destroy there so long ago.
Or maybe no one will come for her. I still don’t know how or why a princess like her ended up being sent to this planet in the first place.
Is her story like mine? Did she rebel against an unjust ruler, fighting for the good of her people?
The thought draws me to her even more strongly. Whether that is the cause of her banishment or not, I know my mate is an honorable woman. I can feel it.
And if no one comes for her, she can stay here with me. Despite the harshness of this planet, we can make a home here and build a life together.
The only possible problem with that will be the men—for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the way some of them cast wary glances at Charlotte.
I told them that we are bonded mates, but some of them don’t believe me, and I don’t blame them. If one of them claimed to have bonded with a foreign female who just happened to fall from the sky, I would assume they were delusional, just clinging to old hope.
After all, it’s been five long years since our arrival on Nuthora, and only a handful of the men have ever felt the bond before. They were torn from their mates when we were banished here, and my heart bleeds for the pain they felt then and must still feel.
But for the rest of us? We never expected the bond to find us. The youngest of us has never even touched a woman—I know, because I’ve made it a point to catch them every time they try to sneak off to the dangerous city to visit the brothels.
I don’t know how to convince my people that what exists between me and Charlotte is a true bond.
My people are honorable. I don’t need to convince them in order to ensure that she isn’t touched, but if they accept her as my true mate, it will make her time with us much easier. They will listen to my mate and heed her commands, they’ll defer to her on decisions when I’m not around, and they’ll honor her children as our future leaders.
But if I force them to accept her against their own judgement, then I would be no better than the despot I tried to overthrow on Vox.