3. Emily
3
EMILY
Stromm is up and dressed—if you can call wearing boots and a loincloth dressed —and his belongings are stacked neatly on the bed. The sight of them should fill me with relief because it looks like he’s healed enough to leave the med hut.
But the look on his face makes me nervous.
His jaw is set, his dark eyes unreadable as they lock onto mine. The tension in his shoulders is coiled so tight, I wonder if he’ll snap. He doesn’t answer when I ask what’s wrong.
“I brought breakfast,” I say, filling the uneasy silence.
Normally, that would make him smile. He loves food—especially Rykana’s breakfast crepes with ryn cream. But he doesn’t move toward me and the food.
“I am not hungry this day.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Yola came this morning,” he says, as if that explains why he looks like someone died.
Her visit was expected; we talked about it last night. “She said you’re healed enough to leave, right?”
He nods, but the motion feels… wrong . Stiff. Hollow.
Something inside me tightens. “What else did she say?”
Stromm looks defeated. Like he hasn’t regained his freedom—he’s lost something instead. “She says I can no longer hunt. No longer fight.”
I blink. The gravity of his words doesn’t sink in at first. They feel like a problem with an obvious solution. “But you’re getting better. Stronger, too. You just need more time—”
“I will never be whole.” His voice cuts off mine, sharp and raw. His hand hovers over the scars on his scaled abdomen, just above his loincloth. “Another injury here, and I will perish.”
The finality in his tone makes my stomach churn. “There must be something more Yola can do.”
“There is nothing,” he says, and when he looks at me again, his eyes look empty. Like he’s already slipped into the void he’s imagining for himself. “ I am nothing.”
“That’s not true.” I feel his loss of identity like it’s mine. The ache of it burrows into my chest, making it hard to breathe. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”
“It changes everything ,” he counters.
I know what’s coming before he even says the words.
“I cannot protect you, Em-uh-lee, or provide for you.” His voice is steady, unshakable. Final. “I cannot claim you as my mate.”
I shake my head. “Don’t say that.”
But I already feel it. The bond between us, the unspoken certainty that we were meant to be something more, is unraveling as we speak.
His gaze softens, but it doesn’t bring comfort. There’s something else there. Resignation. Like he’s already decided .
Panic surges through me, fingers clutching at the pendant around my neck, an automatic gesture.
Rakuium protects.
“Keeping me safe isn’t a problem, Stromm,” I whisper. “I have the Rakuium to protect me.”
The moment the words leave my lips, I know I’ve made a mistake.
His body locks up—jaw clenching, shoulders stiffening, fists clenching. His breathing changes, shallowing out. Then, without a word, he grabs his things from the bed and storms past me, out of the hut.
Way to go, Emily.
“Wait—Stromm,” I call out, dropping the basket and running after him “Let’s talk about this!”
He stops so suddenly that I nearly crash into him. When he pivots toward me, his dark eyes are filled with anger.
“What is there to talk about?” His voice sounds harsh. “I am no longer a worthy male or desirable mate.”
I reach for his hand, clasping his warm, calloused palm. “Your worth isn’t measured by how many kerboo you kill to feed the tribe or your ability to fight. Who you are inside is what truly matters.”
His breathing slows, and his gaze softens. For one brief second, I think I’m getting through to him. Then, abruptly, he pulls away. Like my touch burns him.
“I no longer need a caretaker, Em-uh-lee.” His voice is quieter now, colder. “Your job here is done.”
The words cut deep, straight to the bone. “Taking care of you hasn’t been a job to me.” My voice trembles. “I like spending time with you.”
He steps back, and I feel the distance settle between us like a canyon opening at my feet.
“Give us a chance, Stromm. We can work things out.”
His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “There can never be an us now,” he says, his voice steady. “I must find a new way forward. Alone.”
“You don’t have to do that alone.” I blink back the tears threatening to spill. “Let me help you.”
The silence that follows is unbearable. The weight of it presses down on me like an invisible force.
“You have done enough already.” The words sound firm. Final.
“But I want to help,” I insist, my voice cracking under the strain of his rejection. “I want to…”
Be your mate.
The words lock in my throat. Fear keeps them trapped there.
Stromm exhales slowly, like he’s steadying himself for what he’s about to say next. His voice, when it comes, is flat. Emotionless. “Your help only reminds me of all I have lost. Of what I will never regain.”
He looks past me, as if I’m already gone. Like I’m nothing but a memory…a ghost of something he once wanted.
The finality of it shatters something inside me. I stumble back, my vision blurring as tears break free. “I’m sorry I’ve become such a burden.”
“Em-uh-lee—” His voice catches, rough and unsteady, like he wants to say more.
I wait.
Please, say something. Tell me I’m wrong.
But the words don’t come.
Tears streak down my face as the weight of his silence crushes me.
Then, I turn, and walk away.
My feet shuffle forward blindly, seemingly without direction, my mind numb. I walk along the village perimeter, unseeing, somehow managing to avoid all people, Terran and Rakui.
The suns rise higher in the sky, but I barely notice. The warmth feels as distant and disconnected as my soul.
Eventually, I stop, and some instinct prompts me to lift my head and look around. I’m startled to realize I’m at the South Caves.
Gia’s workshop is here now. But it’s also the place where Stromm nearly died protecting me and the others from the mercenaries. I remember that moment like it was yesterday.
As soon as I laid eyes on his injured form, bloody and seemingly lifeless, I felt an inexplicable pull toward him. Even then, I knew we belonged together.
A ragged sob escapes as my knees buckle, and I sink onto the rocky ground…mourning what might have been and allowing my tears to freely flow.
I feel a little better when I’m all cried out, less hopeless and more hopeful. I use the hem of my shirt to dry the remaining tears, then stand and brush the dirt off my leggings.
Removing the Rakuium pendant, I coil the leather rope tightly around my fingers and let it dangle from a clenched fist. The black stone is a symbol of protection I no longer trust.
Stromm and I were fine until the piece of Rakuium chose me during Jade’s screwed up version of The Bachelor . It was supposed to keep me safe on this dangerous planet. But the Rakuium seems to be pushing Stromm away, like it’s jealous of him or something.
It’s like the stone doesn’t want us to be together.
The possibility sends a sharp pain through my chest, and resolve washes over me. I refuse to let this sentient rock dictate the course of my heart, of my future.
Stromm and I have something special, a relationship worth fighting for. And I won’t let anyone or anything stand in the way of our happiness.
I know what I need to do.