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My wrist-comp, bless its damaged but persistent heart, flashes a translation of his guttural response. [FATE. BOND.]

“Fate is a variable I don't subscribe to,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest, a defensive posture that also hides the pulsing mark. “I operate on data, on observable phenomena. And what I am observing is a highly aggressive, territorial male attempting to assert dominance over a perceived lesser.”

He growls, a low rumble that vibrates in my bones. He doesn't understand the words, but the tone is universal.

Okay, Kendra. New approach. De-escalation. Establish protocol.

I hold up a hand, palm out. The universal sign for 'stop.' “Okay. Let's establish some ground rules.” I take a slow, deliberate step away from the pod, creating space between us. “Rule one. This,” I circle a two-meter radius around myself with my finger, “is my personal space. You do not enter it without my explicit permission. Understood?”

He watches my gesture, his expression unreadable. He doesn't move.

“Rule two,” I continue, my voice gaining a measure of its old lecture-hall authority. “We need a better method of communication. Your guttural pronouncements and my translator's... creative interpretations are insufficient for any meaningful data exchange.”

He says a single word. My wrist-comp translates it. [MINE.]

“No.” My voice is sharp. “Not yours. I am Dr. Kendra Miles of the Earth Science Directorate. I am a sovereign entity. We can be... colleagues. Allies, perhaps. But nothing more.”Lies. My body is humming with a connection to him that defies every rational thought. My heart is a traitor.

He takes a step forward, violating Rule One with casual indifference. His raw, musky scent of ozone and forest floor washes over me, and my own body responds with a flush of heat. The mark on my chest burns, a sudden, intense warmth that makes me gasp.

He stops, his gaze flicking down to my chest, then back to my face. He touches his own mark, a questioning look in his eyes. He felt it too.

Synchronized bio-thermal reaction. Proximity-dependent. Damn it, this is real.

Before I can process the implications, a familiar sound echoes from the trees. A low, chuffing series of clicks. It's the pack. They're back. Or a different one is. Drawn by the scent of blood from his earlier slaughter.

Jaro, for that is the only name I can think to call the warrior before me, seems to have forgotten my existence. He spins, his body instantly shifting into a low, defensive crouch. His fangs, which had retracted, slide back into view. His amber eyes blaze with golden light. He is a warrior again, every line of his body screaming lethality.

He snarls a command at me, gesturing behind him, toward the relative safety of the pod. [STAY. BACK.]

For once, I don't argue.

They emerge from the trees, five of them this time. A new pack, their eyes glowing with the same hungry intelligence as the last. They fan out, circling us, their movements fluid and coordinated.

Jaro doesn't wait for them to attack. He moves. He is a blur of motion, a force of nature in humanoid form. He meets the first predator's charge with a brutal sidestep and a powerful kick that sends the creature tumbling. He uses a wicked-looking blade he must have had strapped to his leg, its edge gleaming in thedim light. It's a dance of deadly efficiency. He is all instinct and training, a perfect killing machine.

But there are five of them.

While he engages two, a third breaks from the circle and charges me.

Shit.

I have no time to think, only to react. I scramble for my salvaged gear, my fingers closing around the sonic emitter I'd been trying to repair. It's designed for geological surveys, to send powerful sound waves into rock. I have no idea what it will do to alien biology.

No time for a double-blind study, Kendra.

I aim the emitter at the charging creature and slam the activation stud.

A high-frequency wave, silent to my ears but devastatingly effective, erupts from the device. The predator screeches, a sound of pure agony, and stumbles, its six eyes squeezed shut, its head shaking violently. It's disoriented. Off-balance.

“Jaro!” I scream, though I have no idea if he even knows his own name. I just point.

He sees his opening. He disengages from his two opponents with a powerful shove and leaps across the clearing. His blade flashes, a silver arc in the gloom, and the disoriented creature falls, its throat torn open.

He glances at me, just for a second, his glowing eyes wide with surprise. Then he's back in the fight, moving to intercept the others.

My heart is pounding.It worked.I have a weapon. Not just a defensive tool, but a tactical asset. I scan the chaotic fight, my mind racing, analyzing their movements. Jaro is strength, but he's one against four. He needs an advantage. He needs a strategist.

“The one on the left!” I shout, aiming the emitter again. “Its flank is exposed!”