Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ziamee couldn’t remember a time when she’d been this comfortable. Her eyelids were heavy, but that didn’t bother her, not with the warmth engulfing her and a sense of well-being that was worthy of her gratitude.
“Oz,” she mumbled, throwing up her arms for a languid stretch. “Is it dawn yet?” She yawned while rubbing her stomach. And froze. The softest fabric met her fingers with not an inch of her stomach bare. An unusual weight was on her feet.
In an instant, she forced her eyes open.
Meeting Illan’s gaze head-on.
Elorach, the male’s beautiful. He had no right to be prettier than anything she’d seen, including her reflection.
A glance behind him showed Seba sprawled on the floor, fast asleep with his legs akimbo.
A contented snore escaped him, summoning her smile.
Only good food and a soft pallet made him this happy.
“How do you feel?” Medic Coll asked from behind a screen.
“Um, well,” she whispered, unable to break eye contact with Illan once she locked gazes with him again.
He inched closer, bringing his spiciness with him, and cupped her elbow to urge her to sit. She did so, registering his touch like the heat of sunbaked rock.
“And?” she asked. “What did the device say?”
He grinned, blinding her and sending her heart into a stuttering rhythm. “You have been healed, of course.”
She scoffed, running her palms along her thighs as she always did, to ease the persistent ache. Except, there was nothing, not a dull throb, not a sharp twinge, not even the familiar texture of her poorly knitted flesh.
She gasped and hopped off the bed, reaching for the waistband to strip.
Illan caught her wrist, stilling her movements. “When you are alone.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
His eyes darkened with an unnamed emotion. “You are vulnerable when naked.”
“I am not in danger…” She studied his face but couldn’t find fault with that logic. “Very well.” She marched to his cabin and waited outside the door. When he failed to join her, she faced him. “In here is fine?” she asked, arching a brow at his odd behavior.
He drew in a ragged breath and placed his palm on the panel. As soon as the door closed behind them, she stripped, shoving the pants down to her knees. Her world spun when she gazed upon smooth thighs.
“This…is amazing,” she whispered, stroking her skin.
“I am sorry you suffered for so long.”
She blinked at him while she dressed. He didn’t understand what this meant to her. Or perhaps he did when he’d insisted she trust him. “Thank you. Has Seba been a nuisance?”
His sweet smile formed. “He sniffed the med-E.D. once, but when Brac commanded the floor to heat, Seba settled for a nap. He nudges Brac when he wants another meal.”
She chuckled, believing it. “He does have an endless appetite. I’m glad he’s well. Thank you for letting me bring him.”
“Hungry?” he asked. “We can eat while Brac explains his plan.” He held the door open for her and waited for her to walk through. “What foods did you like as a child?”
Her steps faltered. It had been too many years since the crash that she couldn’t recall the flavors let alone their names.
“A little of everything, then?” He pointed at a bench.
She strode around a snorting Seba whose paws waved in the air as if he chased something.
“A kandyru tisane?” Illan slid a cup onto the table.
She sank onto the metal seat. The hot tisane’s aroma hit her and summoned tears. Sweet, tangy, with just enough spice to burn her throat.
She gasped and clasped the cup to her chest for a deeper inhale. “Mudya used to make this for me every day and when I was sad.” A tear slipped free, but she didn’t care. She buried her nose into the cup before she took a sip. At the flavor, her heart shattered, a sob escaping her defenses.
“I did not mean to upset you,” Illan said, squeezing her shoulder and sending out a ripple of excited warmth. “Perhaps foods from another culture?”
His thoughtfulness wasn’t helping. Another sob slipped out. And just like that, the cup was out of her hands, and his arms were around her, cradling her against his chest.
Stop this.
But she couldn’t. Once the gates were opened, she couldn’t shut them.
And when he engulfed her in a hug, what walls she’d erected crumbled.
Strength mattered. It had gotten her through being stranded, mauled, losing her mother and now her father.
Making things worse was Illan’s unexpected kindness when she’d distrusted his words and actions since they’d met.
She gathered her dwindling control and dismissed the nagging shame on the edges of her conscience. No. She’d been right to expect the worst. And she’d fed him when she could’ve left him out there to die.
His arms tightened, layering her against his body. She should’ve felt smothered, so confined with minimal movement. But… He was hot, giving off a wealth of heat. She succumbed to the urge and nuzzled his chest, which was harder than she’d expected it to be but, somehow, still comfortable.
When he stiffened, so did she, assuming she’d done something wrong. She tried to pull away, but he held firm, not releasing her. This morning, she would’ve fought him. Now, she found it difficult to fight whatever these emotions were that only he seemed to stir.
Seba huffed, rolled over, then whined, chasing some creature in his dream. The distraction allowed her to break Illan’s hold on her. “Yes, perhaps something not Durn?” She forced herself to meet his gaze though she didn’t linger.
Her heart leaped and bobbed in a tribal dance she’d seen her father parody. He’d hollered at the stars while circling the fire, bringing her mother to a giggling mess.
“Very well. Pizza?” Illan gave his attention to a shiny surface next to the replicator. A thin disc appeared with colorful reddish circles sitting on its orange-white base. He slid it before her and peeled a slice off, then another.
When he sat opposite her, his gaze on her, she poked the strange food.
“It’s made from some sort of ground plant?” she asked, lifting a piece to study the underside. “Then rolled into this odd shape?”
“Flattened, I think,” he mused, snatching up a slice and biting into it. “There’s a red fruit sauce, cheese, and slices of pepperoni—some kind of meat.”
The flour she got, almost like when she made dava cakes.
If she smashed them enough, she might achieve this thinness.
But the orange substance, so salty and gooey, was unlike anything she’d tasted before.
She hummed on the first bite, closing her eyes at the explosion of flavors.
Even the round meat she could replicate, although, trapping and killing anything larger than fish and birds turned her stomach.
“Human food is quite appetizing, but too much can give you a stomach pain.”
“Human?” She hummed. “I’d like to meet this species. If their food’s this amazing—”
“They are too passionate. Statistics, planning, precaution, patience—the humans I have met would not do well against Durns.” He grinned. “Except Quin. She is most capable.”
Ziamee stared at the half-eaten slice in her hand, a knot forming in her chest. He spoke of this Quin with affection. A chill trembled her shoulders. She lowered the slice, no longer eager to finish it.
“You admire her?” she managed to ask.
“I do. She saved my life and became a dear friend.” He wiped his hands on a cloth, then glanced at a bronzed male scratching Seba behind an ear. “Brac, have you prepared a plan for discussion?”
“I have, indeed.” Brac smiled at Ziamee. “Please, let us meet in the comm room.”
As one, they rose and trailed the male to the room they’d teleported into. Brac led them to a lifelike depiction of a cave shimmering above a table. At the base was a faint point of light.
“This is all the Celeeri could scan,” Brac said. “The entry point is the crevice. External reconnaissance has shown no other viable path.”
Coll joined them, tapping on the glowing dot which flickered and reformed. “The male’s heat signature is dim, and I suspect it has nothing to do with the thickness of the rock preventing us from reaching him.”
“The kuta cannot enter the cavern; the crevice is not wide enough. Nor do I think blasting our way in would be wise, further endangering the male.” With a flick of his fingers, Brac swiveled the cave’s image. “We will mount a rigging at the entrance. Illan and Coll will descend.”
“And me,” Ziamee said, raising her chin in open defiance.
“Very well, milady,” Brac said. “While you find your father, Ulta and I will search for your mother.”
“Be careful,” she said. “The buvarre are territorial, and their webs…sticky.”
Brac’s smile was gentle. “We will fly in, bypassing the forest. We located the source of the heat signature but could not confirm what or who it belonged to. We have yet to find a clear spot to land the kuta without damaging what seems to be a tended garden.”
Illan frowned. “Let us rescue her father first. Together, we can travel to the plateau.” He widened his eyes at Brac, then nudged his head at Ziamee. “Her father might need urgent medical care.”
Coll handed out med-guns. When he offered one to Ziamee, she hesitated. Despite already having one, she couldn’t bring herself to reject the chance to own another. She accepted it, cupping the device to her chest.
“I agree with Illan. The most dire is the male.” Coll clasped his hands behind his back. “We do not know what awaits us. I would prefer Ulta remain on board for porting, if needed. Brac, you will guard and await our return.”
“The western side of the crevice is the ideal point to descend.” Brac straightened. “Coll and I will prepare the anchor. Comm when you are ready.”
She caught his arm before he left. “Seba will want to come with me into the crevice. Brac, please, try and stop him from following.”
He chuckled. “I shall pack extra kreso.”
Those massive haunches of meat came to mind, making her smile. “That should keep him distracted.”
“We will prepare, as well.” Illan snatched her by the wrist and tugged her closer to him. He gave each male a look she didn’t understand and didn’t move until only Ulta remained in the comm room. “Come, let us arm you.”
She trailed Illan but didn’t say anything about his odd behavior. Instead, she asked, “Why do they defer to you? They are older and wiser—”
“We are the revered Durn,” was all he said. “And they show you respect because you are Durn and a female.”
She scoffed. “Neither matters when survival’s at stake.”
“Their birthrate of females is dwindling, and fewer males are finding their truemates. Without these unions, the males die.”
Her steps faltered. “Do they hope I’m a truemate?”
Illan scowled. “I do not know. Let us pray that is not possible.”
She blinked. “Why? Am I not worthy of being a mate?” Anger bubbled up and over, taking control of her tongue. “You think me objectionable?” Pain lashed her insides, worse than when she’d fallen from the chagla tree.
He growled and yanked her into his quarters, staring at her while the door swished closed.
The tension in the air sizzled, forcing her to meet his gaze head-on.
Those incredible lashes, the potent fire in his eyes, all sparked a blaze inside her.
She couldn’t fathom why she wanted to hit him or why she craved his touch.
Both desires surged like the cresting of a wave.
“No, that is not what I meant.” His quiet tone belied the fury in his expression.
“We altered Etterians genetically many centuries ago. Their Ethera can only be triggered by their mates, which had become far too few. But they have found compatibility with the humans. Nor does their salvation lie within other species besides humans. Whether a Durn female can be their truemate has not yet been discovered.”
“Oh,” she whispered, heat burning her cheeks. “How would I know if I did…”
“He will kneel. His eye color will change to the blue of his birth.” Illan released a shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a second. “He will tell you,” he said, meeting her gaze once more. “My hope is that you find your truemate in a Durn.”
Her eyes widened. “When you said we’re rare?”
“Indeed,” he said. “Statistically, the probables are slim.”
“Is the Ethera the same for us?” she asked, inching closer to him; somehow, she needed the warmth pouring off him, the spiciness of his scent, his overpowering yet comforting presence.
She’d have to trawl through her emotions when she had a quiet moment.
None of them was logical. She hadn’t known this male for long.
He studied her. “Your father would have taught you the Durn way.”
Her brow pinched when she frowned at him. “Everything I do is the Durn way,” she snapped. “You speak in riddles…” She gasped. “You don’t know.” Turning away, she fell into pacing. “Elorach, we’ll have to wait for my father to explain.”
His lips twitched, then he grinned. “I do know.”
She faced him, then stomped her foot, relishing the thickness of the boot heel when it thomp-thomped on the metallic floor. “So, what’s it then?”
“It is not my place to say.” He opened the door and marched through it, leaving her glaring at his broad shoulders.
She wrestled with her anger, trying to rein it in.
“Come, let us find a dagger and a blaster for you,” he called.
She swallowed a curse and rushed after him, wondering if he used the promise of weapons to change the subject.