Chapter 8 #2
But instead of throwing me against the cave wall and ruining me for human men forever, Kol stops abruptly in front of a weapons rack. He turns around and shoves a jagged, carved bone-knife that must weigh as much as my own leg directly into my chest.
Oh.
We aren’t hooking up. We are disassembling living creatures.
I stare blankly at the bone weapon in my hands.
A hot wave of disappointment crashes straight through my stomach.
I know Lucek’s clan is currently circling.
I know the threat of a violent attack hangs over the entire cavern.
But as I stand in the middle of the dark armory holding a lethal knife, my body is fixated on the heat radiating off the towering alien standing inches away from me.
“Hold,” Kol grates out, the Drakavian word buzzing into English through my translator.
The translated word rumbles harshly from his throat. He is standing exactly two feet in front of me, his broad arms crossed over his chest, his dark face unreadable.
I grip the bone handle. The weapon is unbalanced in my grip, designed for a creature three times my size.
Kol frowns. The deep V between his golden eyes sharpens.
There is zero hesitation. Zero warning. He steps up directly behind me, his rigid chest brushing against my spine. The furnace-like heat radiating from his skin envelops me instantly. Hot dust. Hot stone. And spice. Spice I want to lick.
“Weak,” he rumbles, snapping my attention back.
The Drakavian word is a physical vibration that travels directly from his chest, straight down my spine, while the tinny, mechanical translation echoes uselessly in my ear seconds later.
He doesn’t elaborate. He just reaches around to tap the side of my wrist with two large fingers.
He leans into my space, his arms caging me in completely. His claws wrap over mine on the bone handle.
The contrast is too distracting. His dark skin swallows my thin fingers. His grip is rock-solid, his strength terrifying.
“Strike,” he commands in a low purr, the translator barely keeping up.
He guides my arm, forcing my body through an upward thrust against a phantom enemy. The movement is fluid and fast. It forces me to lean my entire weight back against the solid wall of his chest.
The textured ridges of his braided leather harness grind against my thin shirt.
My lungs lock up. The friction rips a sound from my throat that I am desperately trying to disguise as a cough. It’s not a cough. It’s a whimpering, pathetic noise that means please drop the knife and drag me into the darkest corner of this cave before I spontaneously embarrass myself.
The scrape of claws against stone breaks the silence. A Drakav warrior enters the armory, stops dead in his tracks, and stands in absolute silence. His golden eyes fix unblinkingly on us.
Kol catches the movement. He ignores the warrior, tilting his head down until his mouth is hovering exactly one inch from my ear.
“Again,” he murmurs in Drakavian, his hot breath brushing my skin.
“While we are talking about defense,” I force out, my voice thin and breathless as he forcefully guides my arm through another arc, grinding his chest against my spine. “We need to institute a buddy system for the outer perimeter.”
He pauses, holding my hand and the blade perfectly still mid-air. The heat of his chest burns straight through my clothes, it’s like I’m not wearing anything at all. “Boh-dee?”
“A buddy,” I explain rapidly, staring ahead at the blank rock wall. “Someone who goes with you. No one goes anywhere alone. It’s safe.”
Kol’s golden eyes narrow slightly. I can tell he doesn’t understand ninety percent of what I just babbled at him. But his alien brain catches the words ‘with you’ and ‘safe,’ and immediately filters them through his lens.
“Tor-vakh,” he states.
“It is not tor-vakh,” I argue, my voice pitching up. “It is nowhere near a blood-vow. It’s just walking to the latrine holes together.”
Kol steps back, releasing my hand. I pull my arms tightly against my chest, the cold cavern air hitting my skin where his heat had just been.
He turns his head toward the archway leading out of the lower armory.
Less than ten seconds later, Amelia and Alex walk past the armory’s wide archway carrying woven firebloom baskets. Not even a second later, two fully armed warriors march exactly two paces behind them.
Kol looks down at me. He steps back into my space, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light of the cavern.
“Boh-dee,” he rumbles approvingly.
My knees actually shake.
“No,” I say, my face burning hot. “We are not—”
Across the armory, the warrior stops moving. He stands in dead silence, totally paralyzed by whatever just happened in the mindspace.
He tilts his head at the dra-dam.
“What did you just tell them?” I demand. It takes both my arms to haul the weapon up, but I manage to point the bone knife at the silent warrior before awkwardly turning the blade toward Kol. “Explain.”
The second the tip of the weapon stops in front of his chest, a jolt of panic hits my stomach. If he thinks I’m threatening him... But Kol doesn’t even flinch. He treats the jagged bone pointed at his heart like it is completely irrelevant.
He takes a slow step forward, walking right into the knife’s path to crowd my physical space until the heat of his body feels like a weight pressing against my skin once again.
He reaches right over the blade, tapping one large finger gently against my collarbone.
“Boh-dee,” he rumbles softly.
He turns his hand, pressing that same broad finger proudly against the center of his own chest. His golden eyes drop to my neck for a split second before locking back onto mine.
He rumbles a low string of Drakavian.
The translation clicks sharply through my earpiece. Exclusive. Permanent. Mate.
A sharp, hysterical sound escapes my throat.
I drop the bone-blade. It hits the stone floor with a clatter.
“I am not your buddy,” I say, my voice shaking as I point a finger directly at his chest.
Kol does not step back.
He steps directly into my space, forcing me to stumble backward until my shoulder blades hit the rough stone of the cavern wall. He spans a scorching hot hand over my ribcage, trapping me there effortlessly.
He leans down, his face inches from mine. The possessive pulse of his purr vibrates straight through my bones.
“Boh-dee,” he rumbles, a dark promise brushing against my jaw.
My thighs clench involuntarily. I am trapped against the wall.
He holds me there for three agonizingly long heartbeats. The crushing heat of his body sinks deep into my skin. Then, smoothly and without another word, he steps back. He picks up the dropped bone-blade, presses the hilt back into my shaking palm, and forces me to resume the weapons drill.
Every time his chest brushes my spine, every time his hot hands guide my strike, my pulse stutters with hot panic. By the time he dismisses me two hours later, my nerves are frayed. I walk rapidly out of the armory, seeking the dark safety of my sleeping space.
By the dead hours of the dark cycle, the central fires have burned down low and the temperature has plummeted.
I can’t sleep.
The dreams are vivid and intense. I dreamt of a solid chest pressing firmly against my back, wrapping me tightly in thick arms. I dreamt of a throat humming with a deep purr, and a rough, hot mouth pressing against the base of my neck.
I woke up gasping, my hands tangled tightly in the hides he left on my mat.
I cannot lie in the dark anymore.
I pull the hide tightly around my shoulders and carefully squeeze through the narrow gap in the bone barricade he built around my mat. It takes an embarrassing amount of effort to avoid impaling myself in the pitch black.
Once I am free, I walk soundlessly through the quiet cavern, seeking the freezing, biting edge of the main entrance to cool my burning skin.
I freeze mid-step.
Kol is sitting exactly where I was heading. He rests one arm over a bent knee, staring out into the pitch-black void of the dust. He is utterly motionless.
My stomach does a hard, panicked flip. After how humiliatingly my body reacted to his proximity in the armory today, the smartest thing I could do right now is immediately turn around.
I can find literally any other cold rock in this cave to sit on instead of voluntarily walking straight back into his intense orbit.
I stand in the shadows for a long moment, actively debating just this.
But my exhausted body refuses to turn around. Tightening the hide around my shoulders, I walk to the edge of the smooth stone rim and sit down, pulling my knees to my chest. I leave exactly one body’s length of space between us.
He does not turn his head, but I see the faint, slow tightening of the muscles in his jaw. The glow along his arms immediately begins to pulse with a slow, rising heat.
We sit in the dark silence. The strange stars above the desert are bright as they always are. There is no cloud cover to hide them.
As I watch them, my whole purpose for coming out here shifts. Sitting next to him in the freezing air, staring at the stars...my immediate problems just seem so...small.
He hasn’t moved a single muscle. He’s just staring out at the empty dust. He alone is guarding the entire cavern while twenty helpless humans comfortably sleep. Looking at the rigid tension in his broad shoulders, he looks totally exhausted.
Just like I am.
Something aching swells behind my ribs. The urge to know what it actually feels like inside his head overrides my fear.
I want to ask him how he handles the crushing pressure of it all.
The impending attack. Making sure everyone is fed.
The reliance of us displaced humans. But to ask him a complex question, I cannot rely on his broken English.
Without mating, physical contact is required for the mindspace.
I would have to press my forehead to his. Close enough to breathe his breath.
I stare at the cold stone separating us.