Chapter 2
The landing gear hit ground with a jarring thud that rattled Juni’s teeth.
She gripped the armrest and watched through the view port as the colony center came into view.
Buildings clustered together like they were huddling for warmth…
low structures made of dark stone and metal.
Beyond them, purple fields stretched toward the mountain ranges that looked like teeth biting into an orange sky.
“We’re here.” Finley’s voice shook.
The outer airlock door opened and cold air rushed in, sharp enough to steal breath. Juni stepped onto the ramp behind Val and shivered as the wind cut straight through her standard-issue tunic. It found every gap in the fabric and burrowed into her skin.
Holy shit, it was cold.
The colony center spread out before them. There were maybe fifty buildings, all utilitarian and weathered, and in front of them a crowd of tall, broad Latharian men.
Her stomach twisted. They were all out there. Waiting. Watching.
Including him.
A Latharian man stepped forward from the crowd. He was older, with silver threading through dark hair that fell past his shoulders.
“Welcome to KT-6174.” His voice carried across the landing pad. “I am Kaalden, colony leader. We are grateful for your presence and your willingness to help our community survive.”
Her throat tightened suddenly. Grateful. That was more than she’d expected.
Kaalden continued speaking, something about the program, about hope for the future, but her attention drifted. She scanned the crowd, looking for someone who might be Goraath.
Most of the men stood in loose groups, but a few stood on their own, separate from the others. And there, near the back, arms crossed over a chest broad enough to block out the suns—
Her breath caught.
Oh shit, he was massive. Even among the other huge Lathar he stood out, easily the tallest in the crowd.
He had to be close to seven feet, with shoulders that looked like they’d been carved from the same stone as the buildings.
Dark hair fell past his shoulder, down the middle of his back, with the sides shaved close to his skull.
His face was all hard angles and weathered skin, jaw shadowed with stubble.
His gaze fixed on her, amber and unblinking.
Not friendly. Not welcoming. Not even curious.
Just flat, cold and resigned.
Her heart sank. That was him. She knew it the way you know when someone’s watching you, when someone’s decided something about you before you’ve even opened your mouth.
He didn’t want her here. That much was obvious from the hard look he sent her way.
“… and now,” Kaalden said, “your hosts will come forward to greet you.”
The crowd shifted and men stepped forward…
some eagerly, some with careful dignity.
A lean male with kind eyes approached Autumn, speaking quietly as he offered his arm.
Autumn took it, her face flooding with relief.
A gruff-looking male with engine grease still visible on his hands moved toward Aida.
“Daax,” he said. Just the name. Aida grinned, her expression pleased and maybe a little awed. Juni didn’t blame her, Daax was as handsome as hell.
One by one, the other women were claimed by men who at least seemed to want to be here. Men who offered then a smile and a greeting and basic courtesy.
Goraath didn’t move.
He stood there, arms still crossed, jaw tight, while every other host stepped forward and all the other woman were greeted with something approximating warmth. Then the landing platform began to empty as people dispersed, and the women and their hosts headed toward transports.
Still Goraath didn’t move.
Her face burned. Everyone could see that her assigned host wasn’t coming to collect her.
Screw it.
She picked up her single bag—everything she owned fit in one regulation duffel—and walked toward him. Her legs were wobbly, and the wind kept trying to knock her over, but she crossed the distance between them with her chin up and what she hoped looked like confidence.
He watched her but didn’t move to meet her halfway. He just stood there, those strange amber eyes tracking her approach.
She stopped in front of him and had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Way back. He was so tall that standing this close made her neck ache.
“Hi.” Her voice was steadier than she’d expected. “I’m Juniper. Juni. You must be Goraath?”
“Yes.”
One word. Clipped. Final.
“It’s nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand.
He looked at it like she’d offered him something dead.
Heat crawled up her neck and she let it drop. “I guess we should get going?”
He turned and walked away.
Her jaw clenched, but she followed him. What choice did she have? He was her assigned host.
His transport sat apart from the rest. It looked older than the others, battered and caked in mud, with dents in the metal panels. He opened the cargo area and gestured to it.
She stared at the empty cargo bed. “You want me to ride back there?”
“Your bag.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.”
Heat flooded her face as she lifted her duffel into the cargo area. He slammed it shut, moved to the driver’s side, and climbed in without checking whether she was following. She scrambled into the passenger seat and looked around.
The interior smelled like earth and animals. The seats were worn, cracked in places, and when she sat down the cold from the material seeped straight through her pants. He started the engine without waiting. The transport lurched forward.
She grabbed for the handle above the door. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of the other women—Autumn climbing into a cleaner transport with her host, both of them talking. Aida laughing at something Daax had said.
Then they turned a corner, and the colony center disappeared behind them.
The silence stretched. Just the hum of the engine and wind outside.
Goraath drove with both hands on the controls, eyes fixed forward.
His jaw stayed tight, a tiny muscle pulsing in the corner, and his shoulders angled away from her.
She had a feeling if he could have driven the thing while outside of it, he would have. Just to get away from her.
The silence made her anxious. And when she was anxious, she talked.
“So.” Her voice sounded too loud. “How long have you lived on the ranch?”
He grunted. Not even a word this time. Just a sound.
“What kind of animals do you raise?”
“Six-legged cattle.”
Progress. Three whole words.
“That’s different. What are they called?”
“Krulaati.”
“Are they dangerous or—”
“Yes.”
The word landed like a door slamming. Message received.
She stopped talking, biting her lip.
The landscape rolled past the windows. They’d left the purple fields behind. Now the terrain was rockier, hillier, covered in that blue-green vegetation that looked almost black in certain light. No buildings. No people. Just open land and mountains getting closer with every kilometer.
Her fingers twisted together in her lap. She made herself stop and look outside instead. The sky was beautiful. Strange, with two suns creating shadows that fell in odd directions, but beautiful. Mountains with jagged peaks topped with snow that caught the orange light and turned it pink.
She’d faced harder things than this.
“How long to get there?”
“An hour.”
An hour. Sixty more minutes of suffocating silence.
“Do you go into town often?”
“When necessary.”
“What’s necessary?”
His hands tightened on the controls. “Supplies. Council meetings. Emergencies.”
“So not often.”
“No.”
The transport hit rougher terrain and bounced. She braced herself against the door to stop herself bouncing around. The cold was seeping deeper now, settling into her bones and her breath misted in front of her face.
“Is there heat?”
Goraath reached forward and twisted a control. Warm air wheezed out of vents that sounded like they might give up any second.
“Thanks.”
He grunted.
Time stretched. The landscape didn’t change. Still rocky, still empty. She watched the kilometers tick by on the transport’s display. Twenty. Thirty. Forty.
How did anyone live out here? Even the shelter after she lost her job had been surrounded by life. Noise. The constant reminder that other people existed.
Here there was nothing.
Finally a structure appeared in the distance. Low and dark against the hillside. It looked like it was built from the same stone as the mountains.
That must be Goraath’s ranch. Her new home.
The transport pulled into a cleared area and stopped. Goraath climbed out immediately.
She sat for a second longer, staring at the house. At the enclosures beyond it where massive shapes moved. At the mountains looming overhead. At the complete and utter isolation.
Then she opened the door, and the wind hit her hard enough to steal her breath. It screamed across the fields, cold and vicious.
Goraath had already retrieved her duffel. He stood by the house’s front door, waiting with visible impatience.
She hurried across to him. Loose rocks shifted under her feet. By the time she reached the building, her eyes were watering from the cold and her hands had gone numb.
Opening the door, he stepped inside.
The interior was dark. Warmer than outside but not by much. Her eyes adjusted slowly. They were in a main room with a table, chairs, and a worn couch set in front of a huge fireplace. Everything was clean but utilitarian, chosen for function, not comfort.
She looked around, her eyes widening as she fought the sinking in her stomach. Stone walls, exposed beams, narrow windows.
There was no decoration. No personal touches.
“Kitchen.” Goraath pointed to an opening on the left. “Bathing room down that hall. Your room at the end.”
“Thank you.”
He set her duffel by the hallway entrance. “Warriors leave tomorrow or the next day. After that, six weeks minimum.”
“I know.”
“If you can’t handle it—”
“I can handle it.” Her reply was sharper than she meant it to be. “I’m not running away.”