Chapter 7 #2
That last one had come when I was seventeen, after I’d told him I wanted to study engineering instead of medicine like he’d planned for me. He’d looked at me with such disgust, such absolute dismissal, that something inside me shattered and then hardened into steel.
I left home two weeks later. Worked three jobs to put myself through school. Built a life that was mine, that he couldn’t touch or control or ruin with his caustic words and impossible expectations.
And I’d promised myself I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. Never let anyone in a position of authority make me feel small or worthless or less than.
Rezor was in charge of this entire valley. He made decisions that affected hundreds of lives. He had guards and warriors and an entire council that bowed to his judgment. He was authority personified, wrapped in bronze skin and sacred marks that apparently thought I was his destined mate.
The idea of opening myself up to that, of trusting him with any part of myself beyond the professional courtesy I’d shown, made my chest tight and my breathing shallow.
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
“I need air,” I said abruptly, swinging my legs off the bed.
Mierva looked up in surprise. “Are you alright?”
“Fine. Just need to walk.” I grabbed my boots and shoved my feet into them without bothering to lace them properly. “I’ll be back before dark.”
I was out the door before she could respond, moving fast down the corridor. The guards stationed outside our quarters straightened, preparing to follow.
“I just need a minute,” I told them. “Alone.”
They exchanged glances, uncertain. But I didn’t wait for permission.
I turned and bolted toward the path that led to the top of the village wall, taking the steps two at a time, my heart pounding.
I ducked into someone’s dark, deserted entryway and waited for the guards to run past me. After they did, I kept going.
By the time I reached the wide, stone wall, I was breathing hard. Not from exertion, but from the panic that had been building since Mierva had explained what the glowing marks meant.
Deep compatibility. Destined mate.
No. No, no, no.
I laid my hands flat on the top of the low wall and heaved myself up.
I sat, legs dangling over the other side, and stared out at the forest beyond.
There was very little light left, and it painted the sky in shades of deep purple.
The forest was dark and dense. The mountains were sharp silhouettes that looked like massive walls holding back the rolling storms. This valley was alive and dangerous and completely isolated from the rest of the world.
Like me. Isolated by choice, by necessity, by the walls I’d built to keep people from getting close enough to hurt me.
“Cleo.”
I turned to see Rezor standing a few meters away, his expression unreadable. His eyes were that deep fuchsia color they turned whenever he looked at me. Even in the low light, I could see the faint glow beginning beneath his shirt.
“How did you find me?” I asked, sharper than I’d intended.
“The guards reported you’d evaded them.” He moved closer, not touching, always careful not to touch. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“I’m not going to run off,” I muttered. “Where would I go?”
He hopped up onto the wall beside me, sitting with his back to the forest, though, facing in the opposite direction from me. He was close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his marks, but he maintained that careful distance. “You seem distressed.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” His voice was gentle, which somehow made it worse. “Your face, remember? Very expressive.”
I let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “Yeah. Poker face. I remember.”
We sat in silence for a moment, both looking out in our opposite directions. The breeze carried the scent of mist and growing things, of smoke from cooking fires and the faint musk of the forest.
“Leadership is heavy,” Rezor said finally, his voice low. “The weight of making decisions that affect everyone under your protection. Knowing that every choice, every action, could be the difference between survival and catastrophe.”
I glanced at him, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his tone.
“I never wanted to be lord of this village,” he continued, still staring at the horizon.
“I was third in line. Had two older brothers who were better suited to it. Stronger. Wiser. More patient with council politics and seer prophecies.” He paused.
“One died in a hyaja attack. The other, he slipped off a mountain path and fell to his death. Suddenly, I was the one everyone looked to. I was the leader of a complex people I love to my bones, but will never fully understand.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, reeling from the depth of his words.
“It’s the burden I carry. The responsibility I accepted.” He finally looked at me, those fuchsia eyes intense in the fading light. “But sometimes, the weight of it is almost unbearable. The constant vigilance. The fear that one wrong decision will undo everything.”
“You’re doing a good job,” I said, and I meant it. “Your people respect you. They trust you. They thrive because of your leadership.”
“Do they? Or are we fooling ourselves?” He shook his head. “The storms are worsening. Our isolation is becoming more absolute. And now, sky people have fallen from above, bringing prophecies of ruin or renewal, and I have no idea which we’re facing.”
I wanted to reassure him. Wanted to say something comforting, something that would ease the burden I could see weighing on him. But the words stuck in my throat, trapped behind all the walls I’d built, all the defenses that kept me safe.
“I understand feeling trapped,” I managed finally. “Feeling like you’re responsible for things you can’t control. Like one wrong move will break everything.”
“Is that why you’re up here alone? Trying to escape the feeling of being controlled?”
“Something like that.” I looked away, back to the forest. “I don’t do well with authority figures. With people having power over me. It’s…complicated.”
“Someone hurt you.” It wasn’t a question.
My throat tightened. “My father. He was a surgeon. Brilliant, successful, absolutely convinced that his way was the only right way. I could never get it right with him. I was always…” I swallowed hard, my hands clenching into fists.
“A disappointment. And he made sure I knew exactly how much of a disappointment I was. So, yeah. Someone hurt me. But no one will again. Ever.”
Rezor was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was controlled, but there was an edge to his deep, gravelly voice that made my pulse quicken. “I would like to meet this male who hurt you. And explain to him why he’s wrong.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. “He’s many star systems away. And honestly, not worth the effort.”
“You’re worth the effort.” He said it with such certainty, my chest constricted. “You’re brilliant and brave and stronger than you give yourself credit for. Any father who couldn’t see that is a fool.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The sincerity in his voice was too much. The way he looked at me, like I was something precious instead of problematic, made it impossible to look at him. “Rezor, I—”
He shifted his body, angling toward me. I heard the creak of leather and the scrape of metal.
I felt the heat from his body that was so close.
His hand lifted, hesitated, then gently touched my shoulder.
I closed my eyes for a moment. I didn’t need them to know the marks beneath his shirt had blazed to life.
My entire body was vibrating with awareness and all I could think about was Mierva saying, When marks glow for someone not yet bonded, it indicates deep compatibility. A potential mate.
And my own head shouting back, Fuck, no.
“I’ve been avoiding you,” he said quietly. “Because my marks react to you in ways I don’t understand. In ways that should be impossible.”
“Mierva told me what the marks mean,” I admitted. “When they glow for someone. Deep compatibility. Destined mates.”
“Yes.” His gaze held mine, fuchsia and intense and full of things I couldn’t name.
“I barely know you. And you’re…” I gestured helplessly. “You’re in charge of everything. You control whether I live or die, whether I’m free or confined. How am I supposed to trust that? How am I supposed to…”
“Trust me,” he finished. His hand moved from my shoulder to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.
My brain screamed at me to pull away, but my body would not budge.
“I’m not your father, Cleo. I’m not trying to control you or diminish you.
I’m trying to understand why my entire being recognizes you as something essential. ”
I finally gave in and leaned into his touch. I hadn’t meant to, but I was just so tired of resisting. “This is insane. We’re different species. We come from completely different worlds.”
“I know.” He was so close now that I could see the lines that fanned around his eyes, a thin scar on his chin. The subtle shift of colors in his vivid eyes. “But my marks don’t care about logic. They know what they recognize.”
“And what’s that?”
“You.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Brave, brilliant, impossible you.”
He was going to kiss me. I could see the intention in his eyes, feel the pull between us like gravity.
And I wanted it. Despite everything, despite all my walls and fears and very rational objections, I wanted to close the distance and see what it felt like to kiss someone who made me feel like the only person in the galaxy.
His lips were a breath away from mine when the alarm sounded.
Sharp, urgent, the warning bell that meant crisis. Rezor jerked back, his hand dropping from my face, his expression instantly shifting from vulnerable to commanding.
“Stay here,” he ordered, already moving toward the stairs.
“Like hell.” I followed him, my heart still racing but for entirely different reasons now. “If something’s wrong, I can help.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but another bell joined the first, the urgent rhythm meaning immediate danger. “Come, then. But stay close.”
We ran through the darkening streets, guards materializing around us as we moved. People emerged from their homes, expressions worried, moving toward the village center where the alarm bells continued their urgent song.
Korin met us in the plaza, his eyes a distressed orange. “Lord Rezor, it’s the main grow facility. The storms… There was a rogue lightning strike that hit the climate control system. It just failed. Complete shutdown. Without it, we’ll lose everything inside.”
My mind was already racing ahead, cataloging what I’d seen of the facility’s systems, thinking through possible failure points. “Show me.”
Rezor nodded, and we ran toward the edge of the village, toward the massive dome that housed so much of their food supply.
Toward another crisis that needed solving.
And as I ran, I tried very hard not to think about how close I’d come to kissing a D’tran lord whose marks burned for me like fire. Tried. And failed completely.