Chapter 9 Mine to Defend
Mine to Defend
Fiona
The splintering of wood echoes through my garage, and suddenly the sanctuary where Ja’war just claimed me becomes a battlefield.
“Stay behind me,” he growls, and his voice has changed—dropped to frequencies that make my bones vibrate and my claiming bite pulse with heat. The alien compounds in my system spike my awareness, turning every sense sharp as adrenaline floods my bloodstream.
The first hunter through the door is Dale Wicks, shotgun raised, righteous fury blazing in his eyes. He takes one look at Ja’war—seven feet of pale, predatory alien standing protectively in front of me—and his face goes white.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “It really is a monster.”
Ja’war’s response is a snarl that’s pure apex predator, all fangs and menace and controlled violence. The veins under his skin pulse brighter, casting eerie blue light across his angular features.
“The only monster here,” he says, his voice carrying harmonics that make the windows rattle, “is the one who threatens my mate.”
My mate. The words send liquid fire through my veins, the claiming bite making me hyperaware of his protective fury, his alien strength, his absolute certainty that I belong to him.
More hunters pour through the broken doors—Tom Keller with his hunting rifle, Diane Getty from the diner with a baseball bat, at least six others I recognize from town. All armed. All afraid. All looking at Ja’war while he radiates lethal calm.
“Thirty-seven heartbeats,” Ja’war murmurs to me, so quietly only I can hear. “Twelve firearms, various melee weapons. Three possible exit routes.”
The casual way he catalogues threats while standing ready to kill makes something primal and feminine purr deep in my chest. This is what protection looks like when you’re claimed by an apex predator.
“Look at her neck!” Diane Getty shouts, pointing at the claiming bite. “It bit her! It’s infected her or something!”
Several hunters shift closer, weapons raised higher. The mood in the room turns uglier, more dangerous.
“Fiona, honey,” Tom Keller says, his voice taking on that patronizing tone men use when they think women can’t think straight. “That thing has obviously done something to you. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’m thinking clearer than I have in years,” I snap back, but doubt creeps in as more faces turn toward me with pity and fear. What if they’re right? What if the claiming bite has affected my judgment?
“It’s mind control,” Dale declares. “Alien pheromones or some shit. She’s not responsible for what she’s saying.”
“The bite mark,” another hunter adds, squinting at my neck. “Looks fresh. Probably injected her with something.”
Ja’war goes absolutely still beside me, and I can feel his fury building through the claiming connection. His hands flex, and I catch the gleam of claws extending slightly.
“You think I’m being controlled?” I ask, my voice dangerous quiet.
“Honey, look at yourself,” Diane says, stepping forward with false sympathy. “Yesterday you were normal Fiona, fixing cars and keeping to yourself. Today you’re defending a monster and packing supplies like you're leaving Earth. That’s not natural.”
The worst part is, they’re not entirely wrong. Yesterday I was different. Yesterday I was scared and isolated and convinced adventure only happened to other people. Today I’m ready to travel through space with an alien who claims I’m his mate.
But that’s not mind control. That’s finally being brave enough to want more.
“You want to know what’s not natural?” I say, stepping forward.
“Hannah Barrett’s been driving drunk for two years, and nobody stopped her.
Lost hikers keep getting found safe when they should have died of exposure, and nobody asks how.
You’ve got a seven-foot alien standing in my garage, and instead of wondering what he’s doing here, you assume he’s evil. ”
“Because he IS evil!” Dale shouts. “Look at it! That’s not human!”
“Neither is helping strangers for three years without asking for anything in return,” I fire back. “Neither is risking your life to deliver medicine to people you’ve never met. But sure, let’s talk about what’s not human.”
The crowd shifts uncomfortably, and I realize this is my moment. "And yes, I'm going with him. Because he makes me brave enough to choose adventure over safety."
“Medicine?” Tom lowers his rifle slightly. “What kind of medicine?”
Before I can answer, Dale’s shotgun swings toward me. “Don’t listen to her! It’s got her completely brainwashed! We need to take her to Dr. Peterson, get her checked out, maybe sedated until whatever that thing injected wears off.”
The barrel of that shotgun pointed at me changes everything.
Ja’war moves.
I’ve seen him work with delicate alien technology, watched him show infinite patience with my questions, experienced his gentle touch when he claimed me. But this... this is something else entirely.
He flows across the garage faster than human eyes can track. Dale’s shotgun is halfway to his shoulder when Ja’war’s hand closes around the barrel, and twists the metal.
“Touch her,” Ja’war says conversationally, as Dale stares at his destroyed weapon in shock, “and I will show you exactly how monstrous I can be.”
Then he moves again, and suddenly three more hunters are on the ground, their weapons twisted into scrap metal, while Ja’war stands exactly where he started. Unhurried. Unruffled. Terrifying.
The claiming bite throbs against my neck as I watch my alien mate disarm a small army without breaking a sweat. Fear and arousal war in my system—he’s magnificent and lethal and absolutely, completely mine.
“Prove it,” Tom Keller says suddenly, his voice shaking. “Show us this alien medicine.”
I pull out my phone, call up the video I recorded of the quantum processor humming to life. “Earth technology interfacing with alien systems to deliver life-saving medication across space. That’s what your ‘monster’ has been working on.”
Several hunters crowd closer to see the screen, wonder replacing fear on their faces.
“That’s impossible,” Diane Getty breathes.
“Six months ago, I’d have said the same thing.” I slip the phone back into my pocket. “But impossible is just another word for ‘haven’t figured it out yet.’”
Dale’s face cycles through confusion, defeat, and finally desperate anger. “This is insane. You can’t seriously be thinking of going with it.”
“His name is Ja’war,” I say firmly. “And yes, I’m going with him.”
The declaration hangs in the air. Behind me, I feel Ja’war’s presence—alien, powerful, and absolutely devoted to my protection.
“Why?” Tom asks, and there’s genuine curiosity in his voice rather than accusation.
Why indeed? Because in two days, this impossible alien has shown me more adventure and passion than I’ve had in my entire life?
Because he sees me as extraordinary when I’ve always felt ordinary?
Because when I’m with him, the universe feels vast and full of possibilities instead of small and suffocating?
“Because,” I say finally, “he makes me brave.”
The words hit Ja’war hard. I hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the way he spikes through the claiming bite connection.
“We should go,” I say, reaching for my tool bag and the portable quantum components. “Before they change their minds.”
We head for the back exit, and this time, most of the hunters step aside. But as we reach the threshold, I pause, looking back at the workspace that’s been my sanctuary and my prison for thirteen years.
For a moment, I can almost see them—Mom humming Christmas carols while she helped Dad with the books, both of them stealing kisses when they thought I wasn’t looking.
They’d built this garage together, filled it with laughter and love and the kind of partnership I always thought was just for other people.
They’d want this for me. The love, the adventure, the courage to choose happiness over safety. Mom always said life was too short to play it safe, and Dad would have loved Ja’war’s engineering.
They’d want me to be brave enough to reach for love when it found me.
“I’ve been fixing broken things my whole life,” I say to the room. “Time to see what’s out there that isn’t broken.”
Then Ja’war’s hand finds mine, and we step out into the cold Christmas afternoon.
We make it maybe fifty yards before Dale’s voice explodes behind us: “They’re getting away! Stop them!”
“Fiona!” Tom Keller shouts. “Don’t be stupid! Come back!”
The sound of boots crashing through snow fills the air. Ja’war’s head snaps around, enhanced senses cataloguing the pursuit.
“Twelve following,” he reports grimly. “Armed. Moving fast.”
I try to keep up, but human legs in knee-deep snow are no match for hunters who know these woods. My boots sink with every step, snow cascading into my jeans, icy water soaking through to my skin.
“The ship is still over a kilometer away,” Ja’war says, slowing to match my pace. Behind us, the voices are getting closer.
“Go,” I gasp, already winded. “I’ll slow you down.”
“Never.” His arm sweeps around my waist, and suddenly I’m airborne as he lifts me against his chest. “Hold on.”
Then he runs.
This isn’t human running. This is something else entirely—alien muscles propelling us through the forest at speeds that make the trees blur past. Snow explodes around his feet with each impact, but he never stumbles, never slows.
I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight, feeling every controlled breath, every powerful stride.
“There!” Dale’s voice echoes through the trees, much closer than it should be. “I see them!”
A gunshot cracks through the winter air, the bullet splintering bark inches from Ja’war’s head. He doesn’t even flinch, just adjusts his trajectory and somehow runs faster.
“They’re shooting at us!” I shout over the wind.
“They will not catch us,” he says grimly, leaping over a fallen log that would have tripped me for sure.