He draws in a breath, a small shudder running through his body. “But I couldn’t claim you without telling you the truth. The bond already exists between us, and it will only grow stronger as our feelings deepen and grow. A mate bond can be denied or broken, but it’s painful to do so—and the more powerful the bond, the more painful it is to sever it.”
He leans a little closer to me as if he can’t hold himself back, resting his forehead against mine. “I want nothing more than to lay you down and worship you, to explore every bit of you before I bury myself inside you. But claiming each other like that would only strengthen the bond. It would make it harder to break the connection if it’s not what you want.” His voice drops to a low murmur, deep and sincere. “So many men have taken away your choices, my kira. I will not be one of them.”
I blink as inexplicable tears burn the backs of my eyes. My chest—hell, my entire body—feels like it’s too full, with too many emotions vying for dominance all at once.
Arousal is still humming through my veins, making my skin intensely sensitive to every small touch. I want Bohrir more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, just the same way he said he feels about me. It would be so easy to tilt my chin up and press my lips to his again, to break that small thread of restraint that’s holding us both back.
But I don’t move.
I’m frozen in place, torn between desire and caution, between hope for the future and fear of my past.
Part of my mind is screaming at me to kiss him, to give in and take what I want, to throw caution to the wind. Another part of me is telling me to run again, afraid—just as Bohrir suspected—of getting trapped in another situation that’s out of my control.
Stuck between conflicting impulses, I stare at him in silence before letting out a shuddery breath.
There are no words on that breath, but Bohrir seems to glean some meaning from it anyway. He pulls back, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. I expect to see frustration or annoyance in his expression as he tries to shove aside the demands of his body, but instead, his eyes are full of tenderness and compassion.
“We should get some sleep,” he murmurs.
I find myself both relieved and disappointed as the heated tension between us fades a bit. I can think a bit more clearly now, which is a good thing, but I already miss the feeling of being wrapped in his arms.
“Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.” I nod, then glance over toward the tree with the drooping branches that I’ve been using as a shelter at night. My entire body rebels at the idea of crawling beneath those branches and curling up on the ground alone, and I bite my lip as I shift my gaze back to Bohrir. “Can I… sleep out here with you?”
Something soft spreads across his features, smoothing the chiseled lines of his face. “Of course, my kira. There’s nowhere I would rather be than by your side.”
Lifting me as if I weigh nothing at all, he settles me onto the ground next to him. The fire has begun to die out, the embers glowing red as the last few flames flicker and dance. I adjust my skirt a little, tugging it down as I lie on my side facing the fire pit. Bohrir’s large body stretches out behind me, warm and solid. He drapes an arm over my waist, pulling me closer as he curls his muscled frame around mine.
He’s still hard. I can feel the press of his cock against my ass, and even though we both ignore it outwardly, heat stirs in my belly again. My hesitance about the mate bond has nothing to do with physical desire. There’s no one else I can think of that I’ve ever been as attracted to as Bohrir. It’s all the other things about it that make me nervous—the mysterious nature of the bond, the gravity and permanence of it, the intensity of the things it makes me feel.
But despite my anxiety about this new development, it’s a relief to have Bohrir close. It feels good to lie in his embrace, as if nothing bad could ever reach me here.
“Goodnight, Willow,” he rumbles in his deep voice, the sound vibrating in his chest.
“Goodnight,” I whisper back.
It takes me a little while to fully relax. I’m too keyed up, too viscerally aware of his nearness, his scent, and his breath stirring my hair. But after a while, the reassuring weight of his arm over my waist and the warmth that bleeds from his body into mine slowly begin to unknot my muscles.
The exhaustion of a long day steals over me, and I close my eyes as the last embers in the fire pit die out.
Held tightly in Bohrir’s embrace, I fall fast asleep.
14
Bohrir
Willow’s breaths grow deeper and more even as she finally succumbs to sleep, her body melting against mine. She fits in my embrace so perfectly, her lithe frame so delicate and small compared to mine.
When I was a youngblood, I sometimes regretted that I stood nearly a head taller than most of my friends. My size was part of why training as a warrior seemed like such an obvious choice for me, and I got used to being perceived a certain way because of my large, heavily muscled frame—but I never liked it.
But for the first time, it doesn’t bother me at all.
Because I was born to be more than a warrior.
I was born to be Willow’s protector.
The memory of her lips on mine, her chest pressed tightly to me as we kissed, makes my cock throb all over again. I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life, and holding her chastely in my arms like this would be sheer torture if it didn’t soothe some deep part of my soul. As difficult as it is to ignore the ache in my groin, I wouldn’t loosen my hold on my mate for anything. It feels as if she’s right where she’s meant to be.
After a while, I begin to doze lightly, drifting in and out of sleep. The low sounds of the forest fill the air around us, and I stay alert for any sign of the water-creature or other threat.
When a new sound reaches my ears, my eyelids fly open.
Willow is talking in her sleep again.
“…found him,” she murmurs, the words a bit muffled by the hand she’s resting her cheek against. “Max… here, boy…”
My brows furrow, and I repeat her words over in my head, determined to remember them.
“Good boy,” she whispers quietly, and I can practically hear the smile in her voice.
Her dream last night seemed to upset her somewhat, but this one seems to make her happy. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my own face as I listen to her speak, making note of every nuance and detail I can. Her voice fades in and out a bit, and several of the words are completely indecipherable—either too garbled to be understood, or perhaps words that the translator chips we each have implanted in our brains can’t interpret.
I hold my breath when she finally goes quiet, waiting to see if she’ll speak again, but the dream seems to have passed.
Lifting my arm from her waist, I gently brush a few dark red strands of hair away from her face. They look almost black in the dim starlight, a startling contrast to her pale skin.
“I will remember, my kira,” I breathe, careful not to wake her with my quiet words.
This beautiful woman is a walking enigma, a mystery even to herself.
Still, I can’t help but hope that the secrets buried inside her mind are closer to the surface than she thinks.
* * *
I fall into a deeper sleep in the early hours before dawn, and I wake again as the sun is just beginning to crest over the horizon. Willow stirs in my arms, woken by the growing light just as I was, and my cock immediately jerks to attention as her backside rubs against me. I was already hard, but now my shaft is like steel, and I grit my teeth as I try to wrestle back some control over my body. I hope to spend much more time with Willow, and it will be extremely inconvenient if I find myself sporting a massive erection every time she’s near.
Then again, I’m not sure there’s much to be done about it. I was deeply attracted to her even before I realized she is my mate, and with the added pull of the bond, I find myself attuned to every tiny movement she makes.
I almost groan with tortured ec
stasy as she grinds against me a little harder, her body moving unconsciously as she slowly rouses from sleep. As she comes fully awake, she lets out a noise that’s part surprise and part arousal as she feels the press of my cock against her backside. She scoots away from me just a little before turning in my arms to face me, her dark green eyes soft with drowsiness.
“Good morning,” she whispers.
“Good morning, my kira.”
I echo her words back to her, smiling at the simple pleasure of waking up so close to my mate. I love having her face be the first thing I see in the morning and her voice the first thing I hear.
She smiles back at me for a moment before her expression falters, a cloud passing over her features.
“Are you going to ask me to go back to the village with you?” she murmurs, chewing on her bottom lip. “Now that you know we’re mates?”
“No.”
The word comes easily and without hesitation. The decision I made when I left the Voxeran settlement still stands. If anything, I feel even more strongly committed to it than I did before.
“No,” I repeat, resting my hand on Willow’s hip. She shivers slightly at my touch, and my stomach clenches. “I told you that I planned to protect you, and that I wouldn’t make you return to the village unless you chose to do so. If you haven’t changed your mind, neither have I.” I grin, hoping to lighten the moment a little. “Besides, I promised to teach you what I know about surviving in the wilds of Nuthora, and despite the fact that we skipped ahead to several unplanned and very advanced lessons yesterday, there’s still more for me to show you.”
She chuckles just as I hoped she would, the worry vanishing from her features as she wrinkles her nose. “Yeah. That was a bit of a crash course in survival. But I do want to learn more.”
“Good.” I sit up reluctantly, already missing the perfect curves of her body against mine. Stretching out my shoulders, I cock my head at her. “I thought that today I could show you some basic traps and snares. How does that sound?”
An excited gleam enters her eyes, and she nods enthusiastically. “Sounds great.”
She always seems so eager to learn, excited to add new skills and knowledge to her already impressive skills set. It occurs to me that perhaps it’s due in part to her lost memories. Without old recollections and experiences to draw on, she relies instead on building new ones.
“Breakfast first,” I tell her, rising to my feet and extending a hand to help her up. “Then we’ll get to work.”
We forage quickly for our morning meal, sticking close to our campsite. I know that this particular patch of the forest is no more or less safe than any other, but it has become our home base, a spot we’re familiar with.
Once we’ve eaten our fill of the fruits we picked, I settle onto the same log where I sat as Willow dressed my wounds yesterday. When she insists on checking them again this morning, I put up no resistance. I like having her hands on me for any reason, and I’m pleased that she cares enough to worry about me.
The scrapes on my chest are healing nicely, and although the wounds on my forearm are still tender and raw, there’s no sign of swelling or infection. Willow prods gently at the bruise on my temple as well, shaking her head as she purses her lips.
“How many other people have accidentally clocked their mate in the head with a stick?” she wonders aloud, wrinkling her nose.
A full-throated laugh bursts out of me at that. Willow has a way of catching me by surprise—not just with the stick, but with the things she says. Now that she’s no longer as shy or reserved around me, I’m beginning to realize that she has a sharp sense of humor.
My laughter fades to a chuckle as I shake my head. “Not many, I expect. But that’s all right. It makes our story unique.”
Willow rolls her eyes, although she’s smiling back at me. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.” Satisfied that I’m healing well, she straightens and brushes off her hands. “Okay. Traps next?”
“Of course.”
I grab a few items from my pack, and we assemble the other supplies we need from the forest around us. I plan on teaching her the most basic snare to begin with, before branching out to more complicated traps as her skills improve. Sitting beside her near the fire pit, I show her how to lash sticks together with thin vines to create the trap. She observes me carefully for a little while before trying the technique on her own, getting a feel for the movements.
I watch her, offering advice when it’s needed, and as my gaze shifts from the half-built trap in her hands to the look of concentration on her face, I have a sudden memory of the words she murmured last night. I haven’t told her about that yet—we’ve been focused on other things.
“You spoke in your sleep again last night,” I tell Willow.
Her gaze snaps up to meet mine, her eyes widening. “I did? What did I say?”
“You mentioned the name Max again.” I hesitate, going over the words in my mind before repeating them back to her, making sure I get every phrase exactly right. She listens intently, squinting a little as her forehead wrinkles in concentration.
“There were a few things you said more than once,” I add after I’ve finished. “You said the phrase, ‘good boy’ several times.”
“Good boy…” She speaks slowly, as if testing out how the words feel on her tongue. “Good boy.”
“Yes.” I nod in encouragement, my gaze fixed on her face.
“Good boy,” she whispers. “Max.” Then she goes still. “Good boy… Max. Good boy, Max!”
Willow’s mouth drops open, a look of stunned joy passing over her face.
“What is it?” I ask, my heart beating harder as I lean toward her.
“Max was… my dog.”
Willow’s green eyes shimmer as droplets spill over her lashes and trail down her cheeks. For a moment, my chest tightens at the thought that this revelation has only hurt her more, but then a broad smile spreads across her face.
“I remember him,” she whispers. “He had brown fur and a white spot on his forehead.”
She laughs, a giddy sound, still looking stunned. Setting down the half-finished trap, she rests her hands on either side of her head, massaging her temples as if she’s trying to coax more memories free.
“Your dog?” I ask, hoping that the question will help stir her recollections as well.
“Yes.” Her eyes are a bit unfocused, and she nods emphatically. “Yes. Dogs are a kind of pet people keep on Earth, and Max was mine. Not recently though. When I was little, I think. He was my dog when I was growing up.”
“Did you ever lose him?” I prompt. Last night’s dream seemed happy, but I recall the distress in her voice the night before that as she murmured something about trying to find Max.
Willow’s eyes widen again, and she claps both hands over her mouth.
“Yes!” The word is a bit muffled by her palms, but I can see the excitement burning in her eyes. “I was so sad and scared, afraid I’d never see him again. We…” She hesitates, lowering her hands as a look of concentration fills her face. “We put up posters in the neighborhood. And someone found him and brought him back to us. I remember crying because I was so happy, burying my face in his fur and hugging him so tight.”
I reach out to grip one of her hands, squeezing it gently in mine as her contagious excitement fills me too. “When you say ‘we,’ who do you mean? Can you remember anyone else?”
“I…” Her lips draw back in a grimace as she squeezes her eyes shut. “I…” This time there’s a longer pause before she speaks again, and then she shakes her head. “No. I can’t.”
My heart sinks. I graze my thumb over the back of her hand in what I hope is a soothing gesture. “I’m sorry, my kira.”
Her eyes fly open, the bright green of her irises shimmering. Two spots of color sit high on her cheeks, and she shakes her head vigorously. “Don’t be sorry. I remember something! It’s so clear in my mind, even if other things are still fuzzy. I remember Max
.” She draws in a shaky breath, smiling widely. “You were right. It’s all still in there, buried somewhere in my mind. My past isn’t gone, it’s just hidden. And I uncovered a piece of it today, thanks to you.”
She looks more beautiful and vulnerable than ever in this moment, and I’m filled with an almost overwhelming desire to lean toward her and press my lips to hers. Giving my mate a reason to smile has become my purpose in life, and the raw emotion on her face tugs at something deep inside my chest.
“Tell me more about Max,” I urge gently. “Anything you remember. I want to know.”
Willow considers for a moment, then speaks in a quiet, halting voice as she sorts through her memories.
“He had dark brown eyes. He used to beg for food, and his eyes would get so big when he wanted something. He had floppy ears, and they sort of flapped up and down when he ran.” She chuckles. “I remember thinking it was so funny.”
As Willow continues speaking, she absently leans her head against my shoulder, her hand still clasped in mine. It’s a gesture of such trust and familiarity that it makes my heart swell, and I do my best to tamp down the swelling of my cock before it can tent the leather of my loincloth. I’ve never felt like this about any other woman I’ve ever known—never experienced such a potent mix of tenderness, protectiveness, and desire all wrapped up together, existing simultaneously inside me.
We sit like that for quite some time, and when Willow finally runs out of details to share about her newly recovered memories, we go back to building the trap I was showing her. She focuses on the lesson as intently as ever, the determination I’ve come to expect from her showing clearly in her face.
But there’s something else in her expression too.
Something that hasn’t always been there. Something so beautiful that it nearly steals my breath away.
Hope.
Her Alien Protector: Voxeran Fated Mates #6 Page 10