Chapter 5 Into the Storm #2
This feels more like inevitability. Like standing at the edge of a cliff and knowing you’re going to jump, not because it’s smart or safe, but because something deep in your bones is calling you toward the fall.
The engine compartment is a disaster. Twisted conduits, cracked crystalline structures that might be power cores, fluid leaking from systems I can’t even begin to identify. But underneath the damage, I can see the elegant logic of the design, the way components work together in harmony.
“Can you repair it?” Ja’war asks, and there’s carefully controlled anxiety in his voice.
I study the damage, my mind automatically cataloguing problems and potential solutions.
Most of it looks like impact damage—twisted conduits, cracked housing, disconnected systems. The kind of mechanical failures I understand, even if the technology is alien.
If the core components aren’t fried, if the quantum matrices or whatever they use for brains are still intact, this should be fixable. Hopefully.
“Maybe,” I say finally. “It’ll take time, and I’ll need to understand how these systems work, but... maybe.”
The relief that crosses his features is so profound it takes my breath away. And suddenly I understand—this isn’t just about his career or his cargo. This is about hundreds of lives depending on medications that only he can deliver.
“However,” I continue, moving closer to examine a particularly damaged section, “I’m going to need you to explain how this works. Every system, every component. I need to understand the logic before I can fix it.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
I reach for what looks like a primary power coupling, and his hand covers mine, stopping the movement.
“Not that one,” he says quietly. “Not without proper insulation.”
His hand is warm over mine, completely engulfing my fingers. The contact sends electricity racing up my arm, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close we’re standing, how his body heat seems to wrap around me in the confined space.
“Why?” I ask, looking up at him.
“It carries a quantum energy field that would be... intense for human nervous systems.” His thumb traces across my knuckles, a barely-there caress that makes my breath catch. “I would not want you to be hurt.”
The protective instinct in his voice, combined with the gentle touch, does something dangerous to my resolve.
Three years, I remind myself. Three years of him watching, learning, wanting.
Three years of restraint that’s clearly wearing thin now that I’m here, in his space, touching his things with obvious fascination.
“What would happen?” I ask, not pulling my hand away. “If I touched it?”
His eyes darken, pupils dilating as he stares down at our joined hands. “For humans? Likely unconsciousness. Possibly... other effects.”
“Other effects?”
“Quantum energy can stimulate certain neural pathways. Create heightened sensitivity, increased awareness of physical sensation.” His voice drops to something almost intimate. “It has been known to have... aphrodisiac properties.”
Heat pools low in my stomach at the implication. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.” His thumb continues its gentle movement across my skin, and I can feel my pulse accelerating. “Which is why proper precautions are essential.”
I should pull my hand away. Should focus on the technical problems, not the way his touch is making my skin feel too tight. Should remember that we have a crisis to solve and searching teams getting closer.
Instead, I find myself asking, “What kind of precautions?”
The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with implications neither of us is quite ready to address. His eyes hold mine, and I can see the want there, carefully controlled but definitely present.
“Insulation,” he says finally, his voice rough. “Barriers to prevent direct contact.”
“Right. Barriers.” I finally pull my hand free, immediately missing the warmth of his touch. “Always important to have proper barriers.”
The double meaning isn’t lost on either of us. We’re talking about energy fields and safety protocols, but really we’re talking about the walls I’ve built, the careful distance I maintain, the barriers that are starting to feel less like protection and more like prison walls.
A sharp sound from outside makes us both freeze. Voices, getting closer.
“The search team,” Ja’war says grimly. “They have found our trail.”
Through the ship’s hull, I can hear them now—multiple voices, coordinated movement, the crunch of many feet through snow. Getting closer.
“How long until they reach us?” I whisper.
“Minutes.” His expression has shifted from gentle longing to predatory alertness. “We need to prepare for the possibility of discovery.”
“What does that mean?”
He moves to a wall panel, touching something that makes the ship’s lights dim to barely visible levels. “It means we stay very quiet, very still, and hope the cloaking holds.”
The temperature in the ship drops noticeably as systems power down to minimal levels. Within moments, I can feel the cold seeping in, making me shiver despite my heavy coat.
“Come here,” Ja’war says softly, settling against the far wall and opening his arms.
I hesitate. The rational part of my brain knows this is necessary—shared body heat, basic survival. But the other part, the part that’s been responding to his proximity all morning, knows this is dangerous territory.
“Fiona.” His voice is gentle but insistent. “You are already shivering.”
He’s right. The cold is starting to bite, and it’s only going to get worse if we’re stuck here for any length of time. And despite everything—the stalking, the lies, the overwhelming pressure of being declared someone’s cosmic soulmate—I trust him not to hurt me.
Maybe that makes me an idiot. But as I settle against his chest, feeling his arms close around me, his warmth immediately surrounding me like a living furnace, I find it hard to care.
“Better?” he murmurs against my hair.
“Much.” And it is. His body temperature runs significantly higher than human normal, turning him into the world’s most attractive space heater. I can feel the tension leaving my muscles as the warmth soaks in.
Outside, the voices are getting closer. I can make out individual words now—coordinates, search patterns, references to military protocol. My heart hammers against my ribs, but Ja’war’s presence is steady, calming. His arms tighten around me, protective and possessive in equal measure.
“Whatever happens,” he whispers against my ear, “know that I will keep you safe.”
The promise, delivered with absolute conviction, makes something clench in my chest. Because despite everything, I believe him. This alien who’s been watching me for three years, who’s risked his career and his freedom just to be near me—he would move mountains to keep me from harm.
The voices are right outside now. I hold my breath, pressing closer to Ja’war’s warmth, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my cheek. His hand moves in slow, soothing circles on my back, a gesture so tender it makes my eyes sting.
We stay frozen like that as voices get closer. I can make out individual words now, clearer as they approach our position.
“—thermal readings are inconsistent in this sector—”
“—check every tree line, the thing could be anywhere—”
“—military wants this contained before the media gets wind—”
Then a voice I recognize makes my blood run cold.
“I don’t give a damn what the federal boys want. That creature killed my cousin last winter, and I’m not letting it slip away again.”
Dale Wicks. Local hothead, mean drunk, the kind of man who sees violence as the solution to everything he doesn’t understand. If he’s leading this search party, if he’s been given any kind of authority...
I feel Ja’war tense against me, his enhanced hearing probably picking up things I can’t. His arms tighten protectively, and I realize he can probably smell my fear.
“—spread out, twenty-meter intervals—”
“—remember, this thing is dangerous. Shoot first, questions later—”
“—Wicks, you keep your boys in line. Military wants it alive if possible—”
“Alive?” Dale’s voice carries clearly through the trees, bitter and angry. “Tell that to the families of everyone who’s gone missing in these mountains. Tell that to Hannah Barrett’s kids.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. Hannah Barrett died in a car accident two years ago—went off the road in a blizzard. But if Dale’s blaming that on Jack Frost, if he’s turning this into some kind of vendetta...
The footsteps are close now, so close I can hear the crunch of individual boots in the snow. Ja’war’s hand moves to the back of my neck, fingers tangling gently in my hair in what I realize is probably a claiming gesture meant to comfort both of us.
“—tracks here, but they’re old—”
“—this area’s been disturbed. Something big came through—”
“—keep moving, we’ll do a full sweep—”
One set of footsteps stops almost directly outside our hiding spot. I hold my breath, pressing my face against Ja’war’s chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and controlled despite the danger.
“Wicks, what is it?”
“Thought I heard something.” Dale’s voice is maybe ten feet away. “Could’ve sworn...”
Silence stretches. I can feel Ja’war’s muscles coiled like a spring, ready to move if discovery becomes inevitable. His hand on my neck is warm, steady, protective.
“Just the wind,” another voice says. “Come on, we’ve got six more sectors to cover.”
“Yeah.” But Dale’s voice carries doubt, suspicion. “Yeah, alright.”
The footsteps move away, voices gradually fading as the search team continues their sweep. But it takes several more minutes before Ja’war relaxes, before the tension leaves his body.
“They are gone,” Ja’war says softly, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on me.
“Good.” I should move. Should put distance between us now that the immediate danger has passed. But his arms feel like the safest place in the world, and I’m not quite ready to give that up.