Chapter 12 #2
“Put me down! What the hell do you think you’re—”
The first edge of the storm hit and the wind nearly knocking him off his feet. Ice particles scoured his scales and his wings, and tried to rip away her thermal gear. She stopped struggling and buried her face against his chest instead, her whole body tense against the sudden assault.
Ten more seconds. Just ten more seconds.
The habitat loomed ahead, its outer door still open. He threw himself through it with Jaz clutched against his chest, and barely managed to turn and slam the seal before the full force of the storm arrived.
The noise was indescribable. Wind hammered against the structure with such force that he braced himself against the inner wall, half-expecting the habitat to be torn from its foundations. Ice struck the exterior like bullets, a constant rattling roar that drowned out everything else.
She was shaking in his arms.
“The inner door,” he shouted over the din. “We must—”
She nodded, her face pale, and he carried her through into the relative quiet of the main chamber. Even here, the storm was audible—a muffled howl that spoke of violence beyond the walls—but it was survivable. Safe.
He set her down carefully, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he scanned her for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice came out shaky, but she straightened, pulling away from his touch to brush ice crystals from her gear. “I’m fine, Adjar. You didn’t have to—”
“You would be dead.”
The bluntness of it stopped her cold. She stared at him, her eyes wide, and he saw the moment she actually listened to the storm raging outside.
“That was…” She swallowed hard. “That came out of nowhere.”
“I saw it from the sky. Approaching fast.” He fought to keep his voice level, though his heart still pounded with fading terror. “You did not see. You were looking at the wreckage. You would not have reached shelter in time.”
“That storm must have been miles away when we went outside. How did it move so fast?”
“I do not know.” The admission frustrated him. Another change he didn’t understand, another way this world had become foreign. “But I felt it. In the air. In the ice. The pressure changed very quickly, but I should have checked before we left the habitat.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she slowly moved towards him and placed one small hand against his chest.
“Thank you.”
The words were soft, almost lost beneath the storm’s distant roar. But he heard them and felt them resonating in a place deeper than his ears.
“I was…” She stopped, took a breath, tried again. “You were right. If you hadn’t grabbed me… I was so focused on the rig, I didn’t even notice the sky changing. I would have been caught out there when—”
“Don’t.” He couldn’t bear to even think about it. The image of her lost in that white violence, torn apart by wind and ice, made something dark and savage rise in his chest. “Do not think of it.”
“I have to think of it.” Her hand pressed harder against his chest. “I need to remember how close that was. How stupid I was being.”
“Not stupid. Focused.”
She laughed, the sound wet and shaky. “That’s very diplomatic of you.”
“I do not know this word.”
“It means—” She shook her head. “Never mind. The point is, you saved my life.”
“This is what mates do,” he said simply. “Protect each other.”
Her hand stilled against his chest. “You keep saying that word. Mate.”
“Because it is truth.”
“How can you be so sure?” She looked up at him, and there was something fragile in her expression—something that wanted to believe but feared the cost. “You barely know me. I barely know you. We’ve been trapped together for a few days in a crisis, and you think that makes us—what? Bonded for life?”
He considered the question seriously because it deserved a serious answer.
“In here—” He pressed his own hand over hers, holding it against his chest. “Something knows. Something that does not require words or time. When I woke and found you next to me, something… settled. Like a key finding its lock.” He struggled for better words, frustrated by the limitations of this borrowed language.
“I cannot explain. But I know. You are mine to protect. Mine to provide for. Mine to—” He stopped before the last word, the one that made heat rise to his skin. “This is what I feel. This is truth.”
She was silent for a long moment. The storm howled outside, a reminder of how close she’d come to death, and he watched emotions move across her face like clouds across the sun.
“I don’t know if I can give you what you want,” she said finally. “I’m not… I’ve never been good at this. At letting people in. At trusting someone else to—”
“I am not asking.” He bent his head until his forehead nearly touched hers. “I am telling you what I feel. You do not have to give me anything. You do not have to trust me yet. I will protect you regardless. Because you are my mate, and that is what mates do.”
Her breath caught and he felt the small hitch in her breathing, the way her pulse quickened beneath his hand.
“What if I never trust you?” she whispered.
“Then I will protect you anyway.”
“What if I push you away?”
“Then I will give you space and protect you from a distance.”
“What if—”
He kissed her.
It was gentle this time, not like the hungry claiming of the morning. Just a soft press of his mouth against hers, a promise rather than a demand. He felt her surprise, felt her start to pull back, and then—
She melted against him.
Her arms came around his neck, her body pressing into his, and she kissed him back with a desperation that made his heart ache. He held her carefully, so carefully, acutely aware of his own strength and her fragility, letting her set the pace.
When they finally broke apart, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“You’re impossible,” she said. “You know that, right? An ancient dragon alien who thinks he’s found his soulmate in a grumpy miner. It’s ridiculous.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Ridiculous.”
She laughed again, and this time the sound was stronger. “I’m going to regret this.”
“Perhaps.”
“You’re supposed to reassure me.”
“I cannot promise no regrets. I can only promise that I will be here. That I will protect you. That I will—” He hesitated, then pushed forward. “That I will love you, if you let me. Even if you do not let me. This is also truth.”
The word hung between them, heavy and shimmering as new ice.
Love.
He’d said it without thinking, the concept rising from somewhere deep in his fragmented memory. But it felt right. Felt like the only word that fit what had grown in his chest over these strange, compressed days.
She stared at him as the tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, tracking down her cheeks.
“You can’t just say things like that.”
“I can. I did.”
“Adjar—”
“You do not have to say it back.” He brushed a tear away with his thumb, marveling at the softness of her skin. “I only wanted you to know.”
She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“No.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. Outside, the storm continued to rage, but here in this small pocket of warmth and safety there was only the two of them. “I will be the opposite of death. I will be your life. Your protector. Your—”
“If you say ‘mate’ one more time—”
“Mate,” he said firmly, and felt her laugh against his chest.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I do not know this word either.”
“It means—” She tilted her head back to look at him. “It means you’re mine, too. If we’re doing this whole mate thing, it goes both ways.”
His pulse thundered in his veins as something frozen and brittle inside him finally cracked. He hadn’t realized how much he’d feared her rejection until this moment. He hadn’t understood the depth of his own need until she offered him this small, precious acceptance.
“Yes,” he said, his voice rough. “Both ways. You are mine. I am yours.”
Always.