Her Alien Protector: Voxeran Fated Mates #6

by Hall, Presley

  Pressing away from the wall, I creep toward the door, my heart hammering in my chest. None of the men notice me as I move toward it, distracted by their conversation. But when I pull it open, the howling sound of the wind and rain grows louder, and Rhesk glances toward me.

  I freeze, a rush of adrenaline shooting through me. My pulse is racing even faster, and my throat feels tight, but I manage to force words out anyway.

  “I’m… I’m going back to the women’s barracks,” I mutter.

  The Voxeran man opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t give him a chance. I slip out of the small structure and close the door behind me, staggering a little as a gust of wind and rain nearly knock me off my feet.

  I hurry away from the medical facility, sticking as close as possible to the buildings I pass. It’s hard to see more than a few yards in any direction, but when I glance behind me, I don’t see anyone following me.

  Breathing out a small sigh of relief, I wipe the rain out of my eyes and head toward the communal supply hut.

  There’s no one inside it, thankfully, and I relish the break from the pelting rain as I grab a small pack from a stash set along one wall. I fill it up with a few things I think I’ll need, moving quickly and clumsily in the darkness. When the pack is about three-quarters full, I heave it onto my back.

  Now that I’ve made the decision to leave, urgency is beating in my chest with every thud of my heart. I’ve started down this path, and there’s no going back now.

  The village pathways are still empty when I leave the supply hut, so there’s no one to see me stride down them, walking with my head bent against the rain. I make it all the way to the gate in the wall before I shove it open and stop.

  For a long moment, I stare out into the dark forest beyond.

  Then I turn to look back over my shoulder.

  Maybe this is insane. Maybe this is tantamount to having a death wish. But for the entirety of the years that I can remember, I’ve been held prisoner. My life hasn’t been my own.

  I can’t let that happen again. I can’t risk trusting anyone.

  The jungle-like forest of Nuthora is a dangerous place, and I have no idea what I’ll find out there.

  But at least I’ll be free.

  Hiking my pack higher on my shoulders, I step through the gate.

  4

  Bohrir

  The air after a rain storm always has a distinctive smell. Vox is an arid planet, so I wasn’t familiar with the scent before I arrived on Nuthora, but I like it.

  It smells like soil and green leaves, and it tickles my nostrils as I roll out of bed in my small hut at the edge of the village. Early morning sunlight is creeping in, letting me know that the storm has abated and the clouds have dispersed.

  I tie on a loincloth and step outside, ducking my head a little as I pass through the doorway. The ground beneath my feet is muddy, and I catch sight of Dhelzu and Talik trying to fix a tanning rack that must’ve been knocked over by the wind last night. There are stray sticks and branches everywhere, and I notice a few buildings that have been damaged a bit by the storm. I’ll speak to Droth later and offer my help to fix those. Luckily, this is nowhere near the amount of damage our village sustained when Churbac and his men attacked and burned several structures. These repairs should be relatively easy.

  Without conscious thought, my feet carry me toward the entrance gate. I’ve noticed that Willow is often there in the mornings, and I’ve taken to passing by that way to catch a glimpse of her when I can, although I do my best to make sure she doesn’t see me. She’s clearly afraid of me, and until I figure out a way to fix that, I try to observe her from a distance so as not to frighten her.

  Disappointment fills me when I realize that she’s not there this morning, but I shake my head, running a hand through my hair.

  This is probably a good thing, I remind myself. Maybe it means she’s with some of the other women, cleaning up debris from the storm or making sure the barracks haven’t developed any leaks.

  I’ve often worried that she was thinking about leaving as she gazed out at the landscape beyond the gate, so maybe her absence this morning is a sign that she’s beginning to settle into the village.

  Pushing away my lingering regret at not having the chance to see her beautiful face, I turn around and go in search of Droth to see what cleanup needs to be done.

  As I near his hut, my footsteps slow. He’s standing out front with Charlotte by his side. The Terran woman has a sharp line between her brows, and she’s speaking in a low, urgent voice to several of the other women, who are gathered around her. Droth looks on with concern, his lips pressed together.

  “What is it?” I ask as I near them, worried that perhaps someone was injured in the storm.

  “Willow’s gone missing.” Charlotte lifts her green eyes to meet my gaze, shaking her head in agitation. “She wasn’t in the women’s barracks this morning. With the chaos of the storm, several women took shelter in other buildings last night, so no one noticed she was gone until now.”

  My blood seems to turn to ice in my veins, making all of my limbs go cold. “Missing?”

  She nods, chewing her lip.

  “I’ve put word out among the men,” Droth says. “Someone must have seen something. She could have taken shelter somewhere and still be asleep.”

  I clench my jaw. His words should give me some hope, but they don’t. Nothing can override the worry that’s expanded to fill my entire chest.

  “I’ll help you look for her,” I offer, shifting my gaze from my prince to his mate.

  “Thank you.” Charlotte gives me a half smile, her eyes dark with concern. Although she’s not their leader in any official capacity, I know she feels responsible for the Terran women in the village—all of them, not just the ones who arrived on the crashed ship with her.

  Several of the other females volunteer to help as well, and we begin to scour the village, checking any place she might have hidden from the storm and asking if anyone has seen her. At first I have no luck, but when I stop Rhesk to ask him if he knows where Willow could be, he nods.

  “She’s in the women’s barracks,” he tells me.

  My brows pull together as I frown. “Why do you think that?”

  He shrugs. “Because she told me that’s where she was going when she left the medical facility last night. I pulled her in there to get her out of the storm, but she didn’t want to stay.”

  My stomach clenches. “And that was the last time you saw her?”

  He blinks, looking confused. “Yes. Why?”

  “Because she’s gone.”

  Rhesk’s eyes widen. “What?”

  Anger and frustration rise inside me in a sudden surge, and I wheel around and punch the wall of a nearby hut. Pain radiates up my arm, and the wood vibrates from the impact, but I ignore that as I turn back to Rhesk.

  “Why the slanch didn’t you escort her? Why did you let her wander out into the storm on her own?” I demand, my voice rising until it’s nearly a shout.

  Rhesk stares up at me, and I can sense his surprise. I rarely raise my voice in anger, but in this moment, I can’t seem to help myself. It’s still seething through me, and I clench my hands into fists as my jaw tightens.

  “I didn’t want to frighten her,” Rhesk tells me, holding up his hands defensively. “When I grabbed her to pull her into the shelter, she almost jumped out of her skin. You’ve seen how she is. She looked terrified, so when she said she wanted to go back to the women’s barracks, I let her go.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t think she’d leave the slanching village!”

  That gives me pause. I have seen how Willow is—skittish and wary, like a wounded animal ready to flee or fight at any moment if it has to. If Rhesk had forced Willow to stay in the hut last night, even for her own safety, it could’ve done more harm than good. It could’ve destroyed the last hope that she’ll one day come to trust us.

  But she’ll never have a chance to trust us if she dies in th
e woods, a voice whispers in the back of my mind.

  I can’t let that happen.

  Drawing in a deep breath through my nostrils, I take a step back from Rhesk so that I’m no longer looming over him.

  “I understand why you did what you did,” I tell him.

  Even though I mean it, the words burn as they pass my lips. I don’t know why I feel so protective of Willow, but I do. I feel responsible for her, as if it’s my duty to make sure she flourishes outside of Gornok’s hold since I was the one who carried her away from his den.

  “I’m sorry, Bohrir.” He shakes his head. “I never thought she would leave. I’ll help you look for her. She can’t have made it far outside the village walls.”

  Truthfully, I’m not sure he’s right about that. If she left during the storm last night, she’s had a large head start, and although she’s a delicate little thing, she’s hearty too. I observed her on the journey back from Pascia, and although she didn’t speak much, she kept pace with all of us easily, putting in long days of walking with no complaint. I’ve seen the determination that sometimes sparks in her deep green eyes, and I have a strong feeling that if Willow left last night intending to leave our village behind, she’s already put a good deal of distance between herself and us.

  Which means I can’t afford to waste another moment.

  “Thank you, but your help won’t be needed,” I say to Rhesk. “Focus your energy on where you can do the most good—keep working on repairing the inter-planetary communication device. Our people are relying on you and Vael, and I know you can do it.”

  I grip his shoulder and nod, then turn and stride away. My intention is to go find Droth, but before I can take more than a few steps, I catch sight of him walking toward me, Charlotte by his side.

  “My prince,” I greet him, reverting back to the honorific in my distraction. Droth has told all of us there’s no need to address him as “prince” as long as we’re here, since we’re all equals on this planet, but many of us forget from time to time.

  He and Charlotte come to a stop in front of me, and I quickly inform them of what Rhesk just told me, being careful to make it clear that Rhesk is not to blame for Willow’s disappearance. Anger still burns through me at the thought that the gentle Terran woman is out there facing the untold dangers of the Nuthoran landscape alone, but I refuse to direct that fury at someone who doesn’t deserve it.

  “So she did leave.” Charlotte chews her bottom lip, sadness passing through her expression. “Raina told me she was worried about that possibility. And Elizabeth said something too. We tried to make her feel welcome and also tried to make sure she didn’t feel trapped or cornered. It was a tricky needle to thread, and we obviously failed.”

  Droth wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side. It’s a familiar, comforting gesture, the kind of thing mates do to each other almost unconsciously, and I see the muscles in her shoulders relax just a little.

  I know she and the other Terran women did all they could, and the dilemma they faced is the exact same one I wrestled with as I tried to decide whether to approach Willow or stay at a distance and leave her alone.

  “It seems we all failed in that,” I murmur. “We all chose the wrong approach. But I intend to fix that mistake.” Shifting my gaze from Charlotte to Droth, I lift my chin. “I’m going after her. Wherever Willow has gone, I’ll find her and make sure she’s safe.”

  “You can’t force her to come back to the village, Bohrir,” he says, shaking his head.

  “I don’t intend to.” I hold his gaze, allowing him to see the determination in my expression. “But no matter what, I will keep her safe.”

  The prince’s eyes widen a bit as he absorbs my full meaning—all the words I’m not saying aloud. Then he takes a step closer, lowering his voice a little.

  “Bohrir. The communicator—”

  “When it’s ready, use it,” I tell him firmly. “Bring our people home if you can.”

  Charlotte’s mouth drops open as I speak. I’m not sure she understood exactly what I was planning earlier, but she certainly does now. She looks like she’s at a loss for what to say, but it’s no matter. I have no more time for talk anyway. Every moment that passes is another moment where Willow is out in the treacherous jungle without protection. I need to pack supplies and get on my way before I lose what little chance I have left of tracking her down. The odds are already against me since the rain will have washed away some trace of her passage.

  “Do I have your permission to go?” I ask Droth. The question is a formality, since the feeling of purpose burning in my gut won’t let me rest until I find Willow and make sure she’s safe. But I’ve served my prince with honor and loyalty for many years, and I would rather have his blessing than not.

  “You do.” He nods solemnly. “Be careful, my friend.”

  I return his nod, squaring my shoulders. “Thank you. I will.”

  On a planet like this, we both know that “careful” does not always mean “safe.” There’s a chance I’ll never return to the village. But I’ve faced danger before, and I’ve never let it stop me from doing what I feel needs to be done. This is no different.

  I bid goodbye to Droth and Charlotte quickly, then head to the communal storage hut to grab a pack and fill it. I don’t take anything that the rest of the village can’t do without—just basic supplies that will prove useful in the wilds of Nuthora. With that done, I stop at my own hut quickly to grab my weapons, then I head toward the village entrance.

  A few of my fellow warriors shoot me curious glances as I pass them, and I wonder if word of my decision to go after Willow has spread through the small settlement yet. I nod to them when our gazes meet, but I don’t stop to speak of any of the other Voxerans as I stride quickly through the village.

  Gods willing, I’ll see them all again.

  The forest floor is damp and spongy from the recent rain, and several large branches have fallen from the trees. I pick my way among them, my gaze sweeping back and forth as I search for any sign of Willow’s passage. If she left last night during the storm, she wouldn’t have had to worry about leaving discernible footprints in the ground—but she also would’ve been forced to move slowly because of the limited visibility and driving wind.

  My jaw clenches at the thought of her lithe, delicate frame braced against the harsh elements. I hate the thought of her being lashed by wind and rain, but can’t help but respect her strength too. Even my fellow warriors and I take cover when the skies open up like that, but Willow walked into the storm head-on.

  “Where did you go, little Terran?” I murmur quietly, every sense on high alert as I search for some clue.

  It takes a long time.

  I stick close to the village at first, moving slowly to make sure I don’t miss anything. The sun moves across the sky, burning away the lingering humidity from the rain, and still, I keep searching.

  Then, finally, I see it.

  A small mark in the dirt, one that hasn’t been fully washed away by the rain.

  A footprint.

  5

  Willow

  Lifting a hand to shield my eyes, I peer into the distance. My sense of direction isn’t the best, but if I’m right, I’ve been walking at a slight diagonal from the path we took to reach the village from Pascia.

  I definitely don’t want to go back to the city—I’ve seen too much of it to have any illusions that I’d be safe anywhere in that cesspool—but I feel better sticking somewhat close to a path I’ve traveled before, at least for now. I’ve heard stories about the landscape and creatures of Nuthora, and I don’t want to risk heading in an entirely unknown direction and wandering into a bog or something by mistake. I’ll pick a new direction before I get anywhere near Pascia, giving the city a wide berth.

  That’s my tentative strategy, anyway. I can admit, in the harsh light of day, that I didn’t have a fully fleshed out plan when I left the village last night.

  But I can’t regret
it.

  There’s a lightness in my step and a feeling of ease in my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe I’ll struggle on my own out here. Maybe I’ll even die. But for the first time in as long as I can remember—literally—I’m completely on my own. My choices are mine, no one else’s, and that feeling is worth whatever danger I might face.

  I stopped last night after walking for several hours, exhausted, soaked, and chilled to the bone. It didn’t seem wise to try to find a cave or anything and possibly disturb some native Nuthoran monster, so I took shelter under the curving boughs of a tree that hung toward the ground like a sort of curtain. It wasn’t completely dry under there, but the leaves blocked the worst of the rain, allowing me to get a bit of sleep.

  Before the sun rose, I was up and on my way again. I don’t know if anyone from the village will come after me, but I want to get a good head start in case they do.

  A shiver runs down my spine as I think of what Gornok did to me when he caught me trying to escape. He did everything in his power to make sure I regretted it.

  Clenching my jaw, I shake off thoughts of my previous captor. He has no power over me anymore. No one does. And I’m not going to waste a second of my newfound freedom and independence by dwelling on the awful memories of being held captive by the pirate and his men.

  Instead, I focus on my surroundings, cataloguing the plants and trees I pass by so that I can start learning the lay of the land better. My clothes and hair have long since dried, and I stopped to eat a few tari fruit a little while ago, so I feel comfortable and energetic. Even the steady pace of my walking feels good.

  I feel happy.

  I feel alive.

  I can do this. The wilderness of Nuthora can definitely be a dangerous place, but—in this moment, at least—I feel like it’s a challenge I can take on.