Chapter 3 #2
The holo image hadn't captured the richness of her hair—dark auburn waves that caught the gray storm light and turned it to burnished copper.
It tumbled past her shoulders in soft waves that looked like they'd be warm to the touch.
The small dots across her nose and cheeks were fainter in person, scattering across her skin like stars.
Her eyes were the bright, clear blue of my home world's summer sky, wide and framed by dark lashes.
She was small—the top of her head barely reached my chest—with curves that the image had only hinted at. Soft, feminine, perfectly proportioned. She wore simple human clothing, jeans like mine, and a thick, long-sleeved, dark blue shirt that was too big for her tiny frame.
Then, her scent hit me.
Sweet and floral, like the night-blooming flowers that grew near the caves of my youth, but with something uniquely her—fresh and clean with an underlying warmth that made me want to step closer, to breathe deeper.
It wrapped around me like a physical touch, and the tip of my spine didn't just tingle.
It ignited.
The sensation shot along my vertebrae like lightning, so intense I nearly staggered. Every instinct I possessed roared to life at once.
Mine.
Protect.
Claim.
Keep.
My heart hammered against my ribs, hands trembling with the need to reach for her.
No, this couldn't be right. She was Xytol's mate. My brother claimed her.
I forced myself to remain still, to keep my expression neutral even as my entire body sang with recognition.
"Can I help you?" She asked, her voice sounding like music, even though wariness clouded her eyes.
I squared my shoulders, fighting the strange new sensations that threatened my calm.
"My name is Xabat," I said. "My brother Xytol sent me."
Her hand flew to her mouth, shock evident on her beautiful face. "Xabat," she repeated my name, and the sound of it on her lips nearly undid me. "I thought... Xytol told me that the two of you were separated. He didn't know if you were alive."
As she spoke, she stepped back from the threshold, her small hand sweeping in a graceful arc to gesture me inside.
The interior of her home enveloped me immediately.
Warm air, soft lamplight casting golden pools across hardwood floors scattered with colorful woven rugs.
The space felt lived in and welcoming, with overstuffed furniture in shades of cream and seafoam, shelves lined with books and seashells, and framed images clustered on every available surface.
"This is true. My brother and I were separated during travel many years ago. I, too, wondered if he lived. Thankfully, I received a message from him a few days ago." I parsed my words carefully, measuring each syllable, and ensured I used Earth measurements of time that would make sense to her.
"Is he okay?" The worry that creased her brow and tightened the corners of her mouth told me she cared for my brother deeply.
The knowledge should have calmed the tingling along my spine, should have reminded me of my duty and place.
Instead, it only intensified, spreading like wildfire through my nervous system until my entire body thrummed with awareness of her.
"I haven't heard from him in days," she continued, anxiety threading through her voice.
"He was worried about you," I said, the words emerging rougher than I intended. "He asked me to find you. To help you. He feared you might be in danger." I didn't tell her I believed my brother was dead, that his message had carried the weight of finality. "I promised him that I would find you."
"He thought I was in danger... from the storm?" Harper's delicate features arranged into an expression of confusion, her head tilting slightly to one side in a gesture that was utterly endearing.
I nodded, my jaw tight. My gut told me the males outside were watching her house, but as of yet, I had no proof, nothing concrete to justify the alarm bells clanging in my mind.
"Your brother is so sweet to worry about me," she smiled, and the expression transformed her face into something luminous.
Color bloomed across her cheeks in a rosy flush that made me wonder what other things might make her blush.
"But it really wasn't necessary for him to send you all the way out here. "
"The upcoming storm is dangerous," I agreed, my voice dropping into the authoritative tone I used with my warriors. We didn't have hurricanes in space, but there were many other dangers.
"Where is Xytol?" she asked, the wariness on her face slowly fading. "He's in Europe, right?"
I'd learned about the concept of Europe from my Earth studies. "Yes, he is far away." I couldn't tell her that I still didn't know where my brother was being held. Not yet. Not until she was safe.
"I knew it," she breathed, her full lips curving into a smile. "I'm so glad you two found each other again. He talked about you all the time."
"I talked about him, too. I never stopped searching for him.
" During my years trapped in Nansar's gladiator pit, I'd spoken with anyone who would listen about Xytol—guards, fellow fighters, even merchants who passed through.
Hoping against hope for even the smallest whisper of news about him.
Even after I'd been liberated and appointed War Chief aboard the Historia, I searched every dusty planet and crowded space station we visited, chasing rumors and questioning strangers for any trace of my brother.
Outside, the wind continued to build, howling around the corners of the house. I noticed her eyes drift to the window, to the shutters that hung half open and banged rhythmically against the exterior wall, the hinges protesting with each gust of wind.
"Would you like help with those?" I asked, already moving toward the task.
She looked at me, and a smile touched those full, pink lips, making my breath catch in my chest and my heart skip a beat. "You don't have to...." she began, then grinned on the heels of a resigned sigh. "I could use some help. The storm slipped up on me quicker than I expected."
I moved toward the windows, making easy work of closing the interior shutters. I would need to go outside and shut the external shutters as well, but I hesitated, not wanting my presence noted by the males in the waiting vehicles.
"I know Xytol works in IT, but what do you do?" Harper asked as she busied herself in the kitchen, her movements efficient and quick. She stashed items in cabinets, securing loose objects and tucking away others, and engaged the small latches that would keep everything inside safe from the storm.
"I work on a ship," I said, the words inadequate to describe my role as war chief. Maddie had cautioned me, explaining that often less information was more.
"A sailor," she said, her eyes twinkling.
"Something like that," I agreed, understanding the translation of the word.
"Is Xytol as big as you?" She asked, then blushed, the color spreading from her cheeks down her neck in a way that made me want to trace the path of color with my fingers. "I mean, you are awfully tall."
"No," I said simply, not sure whether I should be pleased or appalled by her mention of my height.
"My brother has always been smaller. He was a scholar, while I was meant for physical labor.
" The understatement felt almost laughable.
Xytol, with his brilliant mind and slight frame.
Me, with my warrior's build designed for combat.
"Are you staying nearby?" She asked, her tone casual but her eyes searched my face with an intensity that suggested she was more perceptive than she let on. "Somewhere inland, I hope, to get out of the path of the hurricane."
"Yes," I said, the single word carrying more weight than she could know. "My ship is near."
"A ship," her eyes flashed wider. "I hope it survives the storm okay."
"It will be fine," I assured her. "I have it moored in a safe location.
" It wasn't a complete lie. The shuttle waited, cloaked and secure.
The question was, how did I get her there?
My hand slipped into my pocket, fingers brushing against the small syringe stashed there.
My contingency plan. Just enough sedative to render her unconscious so that I could carry her to the shuttle without resistance.
But I didn't want to use it. After meeting her, I didn't want to do anything that might shatter Harper's trust in me.
I didn't want her to fear me, to see me as a threat rather than a protector.
I opened my mouth to ask about her plans to weather the storm when the lights died with an audible click, plunging us into darkness.
Harper let out a small yelp of surprise, followed by an aggravated huff that would have been endearing under different circumstances. "Shit! I thought I'd have more time. It's not even raining that hard yet."
I moved to the window, my instincts prickling with suspicion as I peered through a crack in the shutters.
The neighboring houses, though boarded up and abandoned, still had their security lights glowing steadily in the gathering gloom.
Only Harper's house sat in darkness, isolated and vulnerable.
"The storm didn't cause the outage," I said, my voice dropping to the low register.
"What do you mean?" Harper asked, her footsteps soft against the hardwood as she moved closer to a nearby window. I heard the sharp, sudden intake of breath as she spotted the glare of lights gleaming against the rain-soaked street.
"Harper, please move away from the window," I insisted, my voice urgent, already positioning myself between her and the potential threat.
"Why?" The single word came out breathless, thin with the first threads of genuine fear. I could hear her heart rate accelerating, could smell the sharp spike of adrenaline beginning to flood her system.
"Because I'm afraid what my brother was worried about is about to happen."