Chapter 11
The storm had erased everything.
Kraath stood at the edge of what had been a game trail twelve hours ago, but was now nothing but scoured stone and hardening mud.
The flood had torn through this valley with enough force to strip bark from trees twenty feet up their trunks.
Michelle’s blood trail, Zeke’s tracks, any sign of their passage, all of it had been swept away like it had never existed.
Perfect.
“Nothing here either,” Raaze called from further up the slope, crouched over a section of exposed bedrock. The tracker straightened and wiped mud from his hands. “Whatever direction they went after leaving that clearing, we’re not finding it from here.”
Kraath nodded. His attention had already shifted to the fresher tracks they’d picked up an hour ago.
It was the same group of ferals they’d been following before the storm, their prints pressed deep into the soft earth where runoff had deposited fresh silt.
These tracks told a different story than any feral sign he’d seen in his considerable years on Parac’Norr.
“Funny how we’re not heading back to coordinate a proper search grid,” Raaze said. “You’d think finding the human female would be the priority.”
“We’re following the most likely trail.” Kraath kept his voice neutral. “The ferals who took her would seek shelter from the storm, same as anyone.”
“Right.” Raaze moved closer, and Kraath caught the slight narrowing of his eyes. “Because we’re definitely following the same tracks as the ferals who grabbed her. Not some completely different group that happens to be more interesting.”
Kraath didn’t respond and moved forward along the trail. His joints protested the movement more than they should have, a deep ache radiating from his knees up through his hips.
The degradation was advancing.
This body should have lasted at least another decade, maybe two with careful maintenance. Instead, he felt the breakdown progressing by the day, sometimes by the hour. The timeline was incorrect.
“Strange tracks, these,” Raaze continued, falling into step beside him. “That print there, see the weight distribution? Shorter stride length, narrower heel strike. Almost like—”
“Like a younger male. Adolescents sometimes display different gait patterns.”
Raaze made a low sound, somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “Sure, commander. Adolescent males who somehow walk with their weight balanced completely wrong for their bone structure.” He shrugged. “Must be a growth spurt thing.”
They'd been tracking for three hours, staying back far enough to avoid being spotted.
The group ahead moved like they knew where they were going…
at least twelve of them, maybe more. No random wandering, no blood-mad chaos.
They had scouts ranging ahead, others watching their flanks, and what looked like a protected position in the center of their formation.
“You know what’s really interesting?” Raaze asked, pausing to examine a print. “How you don’t want to talk about what I’m actually seeing in these tracks.”
“We already covered this. They aren’t female tracks, they can’t be. There are no female ferals.”
Kraath’s hand trembled. He clenched his fist, the weakness in his grip a sickening confirmation. He forced his expression to remain neutral, his focus narrowing on the truth etched in the mud.
Because the tracks did show evidence of females.
It was right there for anyone with Raaze’s skill, and probably obvious to anyone who bothered to really look. The narrower bone structure, the different weight distribution, the protective formation around specific individuals… it all pointed to the impossible.
Even though he’d run simulations on what would have happened if female lathar had been infected with blood rage and sent here, there were no female ferals on Parac’Norr.
There couldn’t be. He would have known about it, seen them arrive. Wouldn’t he? He frowned. Records from one of his previous incarnations were missing. He’d always wondered why—
“Interesting weather we’re having,” Raaze said suddenly. “Storm came out of nowhere, really.”
“Storms happen.” But Kraath’s attention sharpened on the tracker.
“They do,” Raaze agreed.
The silence stretched between them. He could practically hear the wheels turning in the tracker’s head.
“We should keep moving.”
“Of course we should.” Raaze’s smile was sharp as a blade. “Wouldn’t want to lose these completely uninteresting, definitely normal feral tracks that you’re absolutely not obsessed with following.”
They walked in silence, tension thick between them as the trail led deeper into territory Kraath knew well. Years of erosion had changed the details—moved rocks, shifted the treeline—but the bones of the landscape were the same.
This canyon system had been restricted since the early settlement days. Geological instability, the official reports claimed. Prone to flooding. One reason why the ferals had been exiled here under his guard.
“Getting tired, commander?” Raaze asked.
Kraath hadn’t realized his respiratory rate had increased, another sign of the breakdown gaining speed. His cells were burning through energy faster than they should, his body consuming itself in a race toward failure he couldn’t stop.
“The elevation.”
“Right. The elevation that’s actually lower than the garrison.” Raaze shrugged. “Must be all that heavy thinking you’re doing.”
The worst part was that he couldn’t simply eliminate the tracker. Raaze was too well-known at the garrison and his disappearance would raise too many questions.
The trail curved around a massive boulder, and Kraath recognized the formation immediately.
The stone had fallen from the cliff above centuries ago, creating a natural checkpoint for anyone moving through the canyon.
Beyond it, the path split three ways, each branch leading to different sections of the restricted zone.
The ferals had taken the middle path.
“You know,” Raaze said as they followed, “I’ve always wondered why certain parts of Parac’Norr are off-limits. Geological instability is such a convenient excuse, especially when the rock formations suggest they’re actually more stable than the areas we’re allowed to settle.”
Kraath said nothing. But his hand trembled again, worse this time. The shaking traveled up his arm before he could suppress it.
Finding Michelle and Zeke was secondary now. Let the medic and his female fend for themselves. They survived the storm.
If there were hidden populations in the restricted zones, everything about Parac’Norr’s careful balance would shift. His own plans, decades in the making, would need to be completely revised.
And he was running out of time.
“Commander,” Raaze said suddenly, his entire body going still.
Kraath stopped, his hand moving automatically to the weapon at his hip. “What is it?”
“Don’t look now,” Raaze said quietly. “But we are being followed.”
Aliens had way more stamina in bed than she’d thought.
Michelle’s thighs burned with each step down the rocky slope.
Not just from the hike—from Zeke. From the way he’d taken her against the cave wall, then again on the moss, then once more when she’d woken him with her mouth before dawn.
Her body ached in places that hadn’t been touched in years, muscles protesting the enthusiastic workout they’d gotten.
Totally worth it.
A fallen tree blocked their path, massive trunk chest-high and slick with morning dew. Zeke vaulted over easily, then turned back to help her. His hands found her waist, lifting her up onto the log.
But instead of helping her down the other side, he stepped between her thighs, his hands sliding up to frame her face.
“Zeke, what—”
He kissed her. Not gentle, not questioning. His mouth claimed hers with the same intensity he’d shown in the cave, tongue sweeping in to taste her. She made a sound against his lips—surprise, need, she didn’t know—and slid her arms up to loop around his broad shoulders.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
“Been wanting to do that all morning,” he murmured against her mouth.
Heat flushed through her. “We should keep moving.”
“In a minute.” He kissed her again, softer this time but no less thorough. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as he explored her mouth with a focus that made her forget they were exposed on a mountainside.
When he finally lifted her down from the log, her knees were weak for reasons that had nothing to do with the hike.
She glanced sideways at him as they picked their way through the debris-strewn forest. Morning light caught the sharp angles of his face, and she remembered how those eyes had burned gold in the darkness when he’d looked down at her. Heat crawled up her neck.
So what now? Two nights of sex and they were... what? Together?
His hand found the small of her back, steadying her over a fallen log.
The touch lingered after she’d found her footing, his thumb stroking once through the leather before pulling away.
Small gestures like that had been happening all morning…
a brush of fingers here, a protective hand there. Like he couldn’t stop touching her.
“Careful,” he murmured, yellow eyes scanning ahead. “Ground’s unstable from the flooding.”
She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. On the way he’d called her “mine” in the darkness. Had that been just sex talk or something more permanent? Men said all kinds of things when they were balls-deep, and she wasn’t naive enough to think—
“Stop worrying.” His voice rumbled near her ear.
“I’m not—”
“You’re doing that thing with your forehead.” He traced the crease between her brows with one finger. “Same look you get when you’re calculating load tolerances.”
The comparison startled a laugh out of her. “You’ve been watching me work?”
“I watch you all the time.” He pulled her against his side, pressing a kiss to her temple.
The casual affection made her chest tight. He wasn’t pulling away now that the danger had passed, wasn’t creating distance after getting what he wanted. Maybe this was real. Maybe she could let herself believe—
He went rigid.
His arm locked around her waist, pulling her behind a cluster of boulders in one smooth motion. She didn’t question it, didn’t make a sound. When a man who’d torn apart ferals with his bare hands told you to hide, you hid.
“What is it?” she breathed against his shoulder.
“Someone’s coming.” His head tilted, listening. “Two people, moving fast.”
They waited, pressed against the boulder, until two figures came into view on the trail below. Her heart jumped.
“That’s Kraath,” she whispered. “Thank god he made it through the storm. Who’s with him?”
“Raaze. He was tracking with us when we got separated in the storm.” Zeke’s eyes narrowed. “But they’re heading in the wrong direction.”
“What do you mean wrong direction?”
“They’re heading deeper into the mountains. Away from the garrison.” His jaw tightened. “Away from where they should be searching for us.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “We’ve been missing for days. Why aren’t they looking for us?”
His jaw tightened. “Maybe they’re not looking for us at all.”
The thought sat cold in her stomach. Why wouldn’t they be looking for them? What were they doing?
“We should follow them,” she said.
Zeke’s eyebrows rose. “You sure? Whatever Kraath’s doing out here—”
“Could affect everyone at the garrison.” She met his eyes. “Including Ashley. I can’t just walk away not knowing.”
He studied her face for a long moment. Then his lips quirked in that small smile she was starting to recognize.
“My brave little female,” he murmured, and the possessive note in his voice sent heat straight to her core.
Yeah, definitely not a one-night thing.
“Can you track them without being spotted?”
“Please.” He looked offended. “I hunted ferals through a blizzard. Two males in clear weather? Child’s play.”
They waited until Kraath and his companion were out of sight, then slipped from their hiding spot.
Zeke led, his movements silent on the forest floor while she tried not to sound like a moose crashing through underbrush.
The black cast on her leg helped stabilize the bone, but it didn’t make her graceful.
Every few minutes, he would pause, head tilted as he listened to something she couldn’t hear. Then he’d adjust their route, always keeping them downwind, always maintaining distance. She found herself watching him work, appreciating the controlled power in every movement.
And that ass in those leather pants.
Shit, focus.
They’d been tracking for maybe twenty minutes when Zeke suddenly pressed her against a tree, his body covering hers. She felt his heart racing against her back.
“What—”
“Shh.” His breath stirred her hair. “They’ve stopped. Kraath’s... arguing with Raaze.”
She couldn’t hear anything beyond normal forest sounds, but she trusted his enhanced senses. His arm tightened around her waist, protective and possessive at once.
“Can you tell what they’re saying?”
“No. Too far.” He pressed closer, and she felt the evidence that danger wasn’t the only thing affecting him. “But Kraath’s not happy. Raaze keeps laughing.”
Interesting. Someone who wasn’t afraid of the garrison commander.
“We need to get closer,” she whispered.
“Too risky. If they catch our scent—”
“Then we’ll deal with it.” She turned in his arms, meeting his eyes. “Ashley’s at that garrison. If Kraath’s compromised, she needs to know.”
He smiled and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re going to be trouble for me, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
“Good.” He kissed her hard, quick, like he couldn’t help himself. “Stay behind me. Step where I step. And if I tell you to run, you run.”
She nodded, though she had zero intention of running anywhere. Not with her leg in a cast and definitely not if she had to leave him behind.
They crept closer, using storm-damaged trees as cover. Zeke led them behind a massive uprooted trunk where they could see into the small clearing ahead.
Raaze lounged against a boulder like he was waiting for a bus, not tracking missing people through hostile territory.
Then she saw Kraath stumble. It was quick… just a missed step that he covered quickly, his hand going to a tree for support before pushing off again.
She frowned. She’d never seen an Izaean show a weakness like that before…