Her Alien Protector: Voxeran Fated Mates #6

by Hall, Presley

  “No.” A wicked, hungry gleam dances in his eyes. “But perhaps it should be.”

  18

  Willow

  Since we’ve left far too much of our scent at the site of the trap, we pick up our supplies and move to another part of the forest after getting ourselves put back together and getting dressed.

  My whole body is still buzzing with pleasure, and my mind feels a little dazed. Fresh memories and old memories keep floating through my head, making me more convinced than ever that the wider I open my heart, the more room there is for all of the recollections I repressed for so long.

  I try to bring up the ship we saw again, to question Bohrir more about whether his people would really leave Nuthora without us, but he redirects our conversation every time, showing me techniques for disguising a trap or snare so that the animal won’t sense its presence. I know he’s distracting me on purpose, and I know why. He’s already made his choice, and he clearly doesn’t want to discuss it or give me the chance to feel guilty for his decision to leave his people behind to be with me.

  It’s impossible not to think about it though. That knowledge sits heavily in my chest over the next few days, even as Bohrir does everything in his power to show me how happy he is to be here with me.

  We wake up in each other’s arms every morning, our naked skin pressed together and our bodies warm from the heat that’s been shared between us. We spend our days foraging and practicing all of the jungle survival skills he’s learned over the years. He teaches me how to set and check more advanced traps, how to hunt small game, and how to cover my tracks in the woods. Every night—and some mornings and afternoons too—he worships my body with such a singular, intense focus that it makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the entire universe.

  And every day, new memories resurface from the depths of my mind, pouring forth and filling in a more complete picture of who I was before I was stolen away from Earth.

  I remember that I used to play softball, and when I describe the game to Bohrir, he grins and says that explains why I had such deadly accuracy when throwing rocks at the water monster’s head.

  I remember that I wanted to be a writer, even managing to recall several lines from a poem I wrote once and reciting them to my mate as he listens with rapt attention.

  I remember that I lived in San Francisco, and that I used to love walking up and down the hilly landscape.

  Big things and little things emerge from the depths of my mind, and I’m surprised by how the most mundane seeming details of my life are often the ones that hit me the hardest, making my chest ache with a sweet kind of pain.

  Through it all, Bohrir is always there, eager to share each new revelation with me and support me through the emotional ups and downs of rediscovering an entire missing part of myself. But even though some of the memories are sad, the overwhelming emotion I feel every single day is joy.

  I never expected this when I slipped away from the Voxeran village, determined to set a path of my own, but this time out in the wilderness with Bohrir has been one of the happiest of my life. I feel free and lighthearted in a way I hadn’t experienced since before my abduction. I’m more content than I’ve ever been.

  Except for one thing.

  Bohrir misses his people. I know he does, even though I don’t doubt him when he says he’s sure of his choice to stay out here with me. I’ve never heard even a hint of resentment in his voice when he’s spoken of his decision, and I know he won’t blame me if the other Voxerans leave Nuthora without us.

  But I’ll blame myself.

  My mate, this sweet, burly, complex man, has given up too much for me. And just because he’s willing to do it, that doesn’t mean I should let him.

  I’m falling in love with him. He means more to me than almost anyone else I’ve ever known. And it’s time for me to show him what that means.

  On the fifth day after our encounter with the water monster, I glance over at the tall warrior as we make our way through the forest, heading toward a trap we set last night. My survivalist skills have been improving rapidly, and Bohrir is an excellent and enthusiastic teacher. If we stayed out here for a few more weeks, I bet I could learn how to fashion a sturdier, more permanent dwelling than just the cover of a tree’s drooping branches. We could start to settle in, maybe even plant a garden and grow our own food instead of having to forage for it.

  Is that really what I want though?

  Part of me is afraid of going back to the village, afraid of being around other people—as if going back to that place will close the door in my heart that I’ve worked so hard to re-open, shutting out my memories again. I still fear losing control, losing my freedom, and my body’s response to the thought of that is visceral and immediate.

  But I’ve spent so much of the past several years being afraid. I’ve let fear dictate my actions too often. And isn’t that another kind of loss of control?

  I have a chance to make a choice now, to decide my path based on hope and optimism rather than fear and distrust. I’ve learned to trust Bohrir with my whole heart, so surely I can learn to trust others too, right?

  If I told him I wanted to return to the village and he was sure I meant it, he would take me back there in a heartbeat.

  I have the power to do that. To give him that. All I have to do is be brave enough to open my heart a little wider.

  “Secarta berries,” my mate murmurs beside me, unaware of the turmoil currently raging through my mind. He points to a bush bearing plump, dark purple berries before glancing down at me. “We should pick some on the way back. If we managed to catch anything in our snare, they’ll go well with seared meat. Ryxx always says they’re too sweet for his taste, but I like them.”

  The fond smile on his face pierces my heart like an arrow, and my footsteps falter as I stop walking. He stops too, his brows immediately pulling together in concern.

  “What is it, my kira? Are you all right?”

  I can’t speak for a second, too overwhelmed by the pressure in my chest. My feelings for Bohrir have always been intense, but this is beyond even that. This feels like it goes down to the very deepest part of me—the marrow of my bones or the pit of my soul. The very makeup of my DNA.

  This fierce, protective Voxeran has changed me, and all I want is to be more of the person I am when I’m with him. I want to be the person he always seems to see when he looks at me.

  “Bohrir…”

  I murmur his name before words fail me again, but I manage to get my legs to work well enough to carry me toward him. Resting my hands on his chest, I trail my fingers over the markings on his skin, tracing the now-familiar patterns. Dozens of words are building up behind the lump in my throat, clogging my chest as they clamor to be spoken.

  “What is it?” Bohrir asks, his voice soft. He seems to have determined that nothing is physically wrong with me, so the protective panic has faded from his tone, but I can still see worry gleaming in his violet-blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong,” I reassure him, my lips spreading into a shaky smile. “Everything is perfect—and that’s not something I ever thought I would say. I gave up hoping for ‘good’ or even ‘okay’ when I was held captive by Gornok and his men. I stopped wishing for happiness and settled for just trying to minimize my pain. But with you…” I blink as tears well in my eyes, my voice going a little hoarse. “With you, I’ve felt so much joy. So much pleasure. I feel cherished.”

  “You are,” he murmurs. “I care about you more than anything, my kira.”

  Warmth flows through me, and I rest my forehead on his muscled chest for a moment as his arms wrap around me, enclosing me in the perfect cocoon of his embrace. When I tilt my head back to look at him, I find him gazing down at me, his eyes serious and his full lips slightly parted.

  He’s so breathtakingly beautiful, so rugged and wild and kind and mine.

  Hooking the back of his neck with one hand, I rise up onto my tiptoes as I draw his face down
toward mine for a kiss. Our lips meet, hot and fierce, and sparks explode between us as love and desire mix into the most potent kind of need I’ve ever experienced.

  His strong arms tighten around my back, drawing me even closer to him as if he’s trying to fuse our bodies together. The natural musk of his skin teases my nostrils as his tongue slides over the seam of my lips, and I open for him as I suck in a sharp breath.

  I’m arching against him as he curves his body around mine, and I can feel his cock throbbing against my belly. It would be the easiest thing in the world to tug my skirt off and shove his loincloth out of the way, to wrap my legs around him and let him press me up against the nearest tree as he plunges inside me.

  But there was a reason I stopped walking, and it wasn’t this. As badly as I want him, there’s something I have to tell him first. Something he needs to know.

  “Bohrir, wait,” I gasp, breaking our kiss with supreme effort.

  I’m short of breath, and I can feel the flush in my cheeks. My mate’s pupils are wide, his eyes glazed with arousal, but he blinks and stares down at me, loosening his grip on me just a little as he waits for me to say whatever else I’m going to.

  “I love how much you care about me,” I tell him, dragging my fingers through his hair. My fingertips brush against the nodes on his spine, and he shivers. I move them away quickly, knowing we’re both holding on to our self-control by a thread—if I tease him anymore, we’ll both give in to the desire simmering between us, and I’ll never get this out.

  “I care about you too,” I continue. “I want to make a life with you. Explore a future with you. And the truth is, no matter how happy I’ve been these past few days, we can’t build the kind of future I want us to have here.” I chuckle, biting my lip as I gaze up at him. “You’ve made Nuthora feel like a paradise to me, which is a pretty incredible feat. But it isn’t. This planet is dangerous and rough.”

  Bohrir’s grip on my waist tightens a little, as if the reminder of the perils of this prison planet makes him want to hold me closer and shield me with his body.

  I let out a breath, speaking softly. “I want us to be safe. To be happy. And whether a rescue ship ever comes or not, the place where we truly belong is with your p—”

  Before I can finish speaking, a noise filters through the trees to my left. I break off suddenly, my body tensing in alarm as I try register the sound of voices.

  It’s not an animal, or even a group of animals. I can’t make out the words, but it’s clearly someone speaking.

  Another prisoner. More than one, most likely.

  Fuck.

  My stomach drops, and I meet Bohrir’s gaze for a split second before we both move. Dropping his hold on me, he grips my hand in his instead, tugging me through the undergrowth as the voices draw nearer.

  There are several trees clustered together near a giant flowering bush, with a patch of stinging vines spread out over the ground on one side. Bohrir pulls me behind the largest tree and presses my back against its rough bark, literally shielding me with his body as he crowds close to me, giving us both cover behind the trees and the bush. Hopefully the stinging vines will deter whoever is walking past from coming this way.

  We both stay completely still, barely daring to breathe as the sounds of the approaching aliens grow louder. My heart is thudding so heavily in my chest that I can hear the rush of blood in my ears, and I bite down hard on my lower lip as I stare up at Bohrir. He’s peering around the side of the tree, and as the other prisoners pass by, he stiffens, his jaw clenching so hard that the muscles in his cheeks pop out.

  It only takes me a split second to figure out why.

  The pounding of my pulse in my ears made it hard to distinguish the individual voices at first, but with the aliens forging a path only a few yards away from us, I finally pick out a raspy, blunt tone as one of them speaks again.

  My heart seems to stop beating entirely, hovering suspended in my chest as shock washes through me like ice water.

  I know that voice.

  I still hear it in my nightmares far too often.

  It’s Gornok.

  19

  Bohrir

  Willow’s forest-green eyes go wide, and a dusky pink flush rises in her cheeks. It’s nothing like the beautiful blush that colors her skin when I bring her pleasure with my mouth and hands and cock. This flush is splotchy and angry-looking, and it’s matched by a look of pain and fear in her eyes so intense that I swear I can feel her emotions in my own soul.

  As the band of pirates pass by where we’re hidden, one of them slows. He’s tall and lanky, with knobby joints, dark gray skin, and a squashed face. He glances around, and my muscles tense. Has he spotted us or sensed our presence somehow? I’m certain we’re well-hidden, and I’m a good enough hunter to be able to move silently through the forest, so I don’t think they could’ve heard us slipping behind this tree. But there are species out there whose senses are much more acute than most, and if this alien possesses heightened hearing or smell, perhaps he’ll be able to detect our presence despite my best efforts.

  I’m ready to fight, ready to spring into action if need be—but then the flat-faced alien makes a noise in his throat and calls out to Gornok, who’s walking several paces ahead.

  “Shouldn’t we have reached the village by now?” he asks, sounding impatient.

  Gornok stops and turns back to look at his comrade. I don’t know what species of alien the pirate leader is—there are too many in the universe for me to be acquainted with them all, although my time on Nuthora has exposed me to a number of alien species I never knew existed before. I’m not sure if others of his kind are built quite as solidly as he is, but the leader of the pirate band is broad-shouldered and thick-limbed. He wears a pair of dark trousers and boots, but his upper body is bare except for some roughly made leather armor strapped across his shoulders. His long hair is braided close to his scalp in neat rows, and his eyes are vertical slits.

  He scowls, gesturing with one hand to bring the entire party to a halt. There are six pirates in total—fewer than I saw in his den when I went to ask them about K’Mek’s whereabouts.

  “You were there when the old trader told us about the Voxeran encampment,” Gornok growls. “You heard everything I did. We’ve been following the landmarks she told us about, so we’re on the right path.”

  “Yes, but are you sure—”

  “I’m sure we’ll keep looking until we find it.” The pirate leader’s voice lashes out like a whip. “No matter how long it takes. They stole something from me. I want it back. And if the rumors are to be believed, they stole something from Hyron too. If he finds out where their settlement is before we reach it, we’ll have to fight him for the communicator device. Is that what you want?”

  “No.” The flat-faced alien grimaces.

  “Exactly. So keep moving.” Gornok spits the last words sharply, jerking his head to indicate that the party should continue walking.

  They do, tromping through the underbrush away from us in a rough line.

  The moment they’re out of earshot, Willow lets out a shaky breath, her nostrils flaring as her chest heaves. All the color has faded from her cheeks, the flush disappearing to leave her skin wan and pale. A hundred different emotions churn in the depths of her bright green eyes, which have turned glassy with shock and fear.

  Fury like I’ve never known rises up inside me.

  I never expected to see Gornok again. I ran from his den rather than staying to fight him and his fellow pirates because protecting my mate was more important to me than hunting down the villainous pirate and making him pay for his crimes against her. But I always regretted leaving Pascia before I had the chance to end his miserable life.

  Now I have an opportunity to right that wrong. A chance to claim some measure of vengeance for my sweet, innocent mate.

  My hands curl into fists, my knuckles pressing against the bark of the tree on either side of Willow’s head as Gornok’s voice echoes
in my mind.

  He’s coming to look for her. He plans to steal her back, along with the inter-planetary communicator.

  No.

  That single word rises up inside me with the force of a hurricane.

  No.

  He cannot have her. He will never lay another finger on her again. He will never look at her again, never speak to her or hurt her again. And I’ll be slanched if I let him take anything else from my people either.

  The pirate must die.

  Without even considering what I’m doing, urged on by a kind of battle fury I’ve rarely experienced, I step away from the tree, gripping the handle of the knife I keep tucked into the side of my loincloth. As I turn toward the spot where Gornok and the other pirates disappeared into the trees, a hand falls on my arm.

  “Bohrir, wait,” Willow whispers urgently. “What are you doing?”

  I can barely hear her. It’s as if her voice is coming from far away, from the end of a long tunnel. Even the delicate hand on my arm barely registers. All I can feel is my blood rushing through my veins, my heart pounding heavily in my chest, and air rushing from my nostrils as I breathe hard.

  “I’m ending this,” I grit out. “Now.”

  “No, you can’t!” My mate rushes around to put her body in front of mine, keeping her voice to a low hiss as she braces her hands on my chest. “Not like this. There are six of them, and only one of you. They’re all armed, and I know they can fight. You can’t take them all on by yourself.”

  Some rational part of my mind recognizes the truth of what she’s saying. I’m bigger than any of the pirates, even Gornok, but six against one is bad odds.

  In this moment, though, I don’t care. All I want is to exact vengeance on them all for every bit of pain Willow has ever felt.

  I attempt to start walking again, but the small Terran woman in front of me stands her ground, digging her feet into the dirt as she splays her fingers over my tense pectorals.