Chapter 11
TORVEN
The descent back to the main level felt different this time.
Every step down those metal stairs carried the weight of what I’d learned in the past few hours.
My crew was scattered but alive—most of them, anyway.
There were unknown aliens on this planet who might want us dead.
And the woman walking beside me, her hand occasionally brushing mine as we navigated the narrow stairwell, was my mate.
My mate.
The knowledge sat in my chest like a warm ember, spreading heat through my entire body whenever I looked at her. The mating marks on my neck still felt tender, like a fresh brand, and I caught myself touching them without thinking.
“Stop that,” Zara said, noticing my hand moving to my neck again. “You’ll irritate the skin.”
“They itch,” I admitted.
“That’s normal. Maya told me Rykar’s marks were sensitive for the first few days.” She paused on the landing, studying my face with that analytical expression I was learning to recognize. “How do you feel? I mean, beyond the physical sensations.”
How did I feel? Like every instinct I’d spent years suppressing was now roaring to life.
Like I wanted to carry her away from every possible danger and keep her safe in a place where nothing could touch her.
Like I wanted to strip her clothes off and explore every inch of her skin until I knew exactly what made her gasp and moan.
Like I wanted to plunge my cock inside of her and keep it there forever.
Extreme, yes, but that was what the early stages of the mate bond did to a Destran male.
The timing of it couldn’t have been worse.
“Protective,” I said, which was the most honest answer I could give without embarrassing us both. “More protective than I’ve ever felt about anyone.”
She nodded as if this made perfect sense to her. “The biological imperative to protect one’s mate. It’s probably evolutionary.”
“Probably.” Though what I was feeling didn’t seem like mere biology. It felt bigger than that, more consuming.
We reached the main control room, and I immediately started organizing our supplies. It was easier to focus on practical tasks than to think about the way Zara’s hair caught the light, or how her lips had looked when she was talking into the communicator earlier.
“Food inventory,” I announced, pulling out the dwindling ration packs.
Zara settled onto the blankets we’d arranged in the center of the room, cross-legged and efficient. I divided the rations into portions, automatically giving her the larger share.
“That’s not right,” she said, eyeing the unequal distribution.
“It’s fine.”
“Torven, you’re bigger than me. You need more calories to maintain your body mass.”
“I need less food than you do to survive. Destran metabolism is more efficient.” It wasn’t really a lie.
Destran metabolism was more efficient, but without lami, we needed food.
Definitely more food than what I was eating, but the truth was that the thought of her going hungry while I had food made my skin crawl with anxiety.
She looked skeptical but didn’t argue further.
We ate in comfortable silence. The rations tasted like cardboard but provided necessary nutrition.
Every time I caught her looking at me, something tightened in my chest. The way she chewed thoughtfully, the way she licked her lower lip when she was thinking—it was all distracting in ways that made planning our next moves difficult.
“So,” she said, capping her water container and setting it aside. “What are our options?”
I forced myself to focus on strategy instead of the elegant curve of her neck. “We could attempt to reach Henic’s position. If we can navigate the terrain and avoid whatever hostile forces cut off our communication, we’d have better resources with the combined group.”
“We’d have to reestablish contact and get their location,” she said, which was what my next statement was going to be. “And risk our…interlopers learning their location as well.”
“They may already know their location,” I said.
“But true. They clearly know ours, since I gave Henic our coordinates when I explained what we’d learned about this tower and its purpose.
But the other problem with that is the unpredictable weather conditions on the surface.
With limited supplies and potential hostiles tracking us?
” I shook my head. “Survival would be unlikely.”
“I agree.” Zara pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “When we looked out from the communications room, what did you see?”
“Nothing,” I admitted. “Barren landscape for as far as the eye could see. No landmarks, no shelter, no indication of the vegetative areas Henic described.”
“So we could walk for days and never find them. Or walk directly into whatever dangers made the original inhabitants abandon this place.”
“That’s my assessment.”
She was quiet for a long moment, staring at the floor. “And staying here isn’t really an option either. Our food will run out in a few days, and we still don’t know how to shut down the weather control system.”
“We’re trapped,” I said bluntly. “At least temporarily.”
“Trapped with unknown aliens who may be hunting us, limited resources, and no way to contact rescue.” She looked up at me, and there was something in her expression that made my pulse quicken. “Could be worse, I suppose.”
“How?”
“I could be trapped here alone. Or with someone I don’t like.” Her lips curved in a small smile. “Instead, I’m stuck with my mate.”
The word sent a shot of heat through me. My mate. Mine to protect, mine to care for, mine to—
I clamped down on that line of thinking before it went somewhere that would make this conversation impossible to continue. My cock was making it hard to think as it was.
“Rivers…” I started, then stopped. What was I supposed to say? That every time she moved, I noticed? That the scent of her hair was driving me to distraction? That I was having trouble concentrating on survival planning because all I could think about was what she would feel like in my arms?
“Yes?” She tilted her head, watching me with those intelligent brown eyes.
“Nothing. Just…” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated with my own inability to form coherent thoughts around her. “This is more complicated than I expected.”
“The mating bond?”
“All of it. The bond, the situation, the way I feel about you.” I met her gaze, seeing my own uncertainty reflected there. “I’ve never experienced anything like this.”
“Neither have I.” She shifted on the blankets, moving closer. “Is it making it hard to focus?”
Hard to focus. That was an understatement. “Yes.”
“Good,” she said, and there was something in her voice that made my skin flush with heat. “I was wondering if it was just me.”
“It’s not just you.”
We looked at each other across the small space between us, and the air felt charged with possibility. I could see the pulse beating at the base of her throat, could smell the faint scent of her skin mixed with the metallic tang of the recycled air.
“Torven,” she said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Would you like to make out with me?”
I stared at her, wondering if I’d heard correctly. “Make out what?”
“Just…make out.” She grinned. “Oh! You don’t know what that is.
Making out is kissing, caressing, exploring our physical compatibility.
It can, and often does, include the removal of some clothing for more imitate touching.
” Her cheeks were flushed, but her voice was steady.
“I’m not ready for…everything yet. But I’d like to know what it feels like to be close to you. ”
Every rational thought in my head evaporated. Zara. Naked—or partly naked. I’d take whatever I could get. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She moved closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “Unless you don’t want to—”
“I want to.” The words came out rougher than I’d intended. “I’ve been thinking about it constantly.”
“Good.” She reached out and traced one of the mating marks on my neck with her fingertip. “Because I’ve been thinking about it too.”
The gentle touch sent electricity shooting through my nervous system, straight to my aching cock, which was now straining desperately at the front of my pants. I caught her hand, pressing it flat against the marks, and she made a soft sound that also went straight to my groin.
“What exactly does ‘making out’ involve?” I asked, needing to understand the boundaries before I lost control entirely.
“Everything except actual sex,” she said, her voice slightly breathless. “Kissing, touching, removing clothes if we want to. Just not penetration of the penis into the vagina.”
“That’s…specific,” I managed to say. “I can work with that.”
Then she was leaning toward me, and I was meeting her halfway, and our mouths came together with a hunger that surprised me with its intensity. This was desperate, consuming, a little clumsy. Her teeth bumped into mine and she pulled away briefly, giggling. “Sorry.”
I didn’t care. I pulled her closer and she came willingly, her hands tangling in my hair as she opened her mouth under mine.
She tasted like the metallic water and something uniquely her, and I couldn’t get enough.
When I traced her lower lip with my tongue, she made a sound that made every nerve ending in my body come alive.
“Torven,” she breathed against my mouth, and the way she said my name made something primal rear up in my chest.
I trailed kisses along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her skin was incredibly soft, and when I found a particularly sensitive area and focused my attention there, her hands tightened in my hair and she arched against me.
“Is this okay?” I asked, my voice rough with want.
“More than okay,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”