Page 12 of Alien Warrior’s Claim (Nyxari Bondmates #1)

LAZRIN

I woke to cold emptiness where warmth should have been. My arm reached instinctively across the furs, finding only vacant space. My eyes opened to confirm what my body already knew—Mirelle was gone.

Sitting up, I scanned the cave. Her scent lingered in the air, but she herself had vanished. My lifelines pulsed with a dull ache, responding to her absence with physical pain that radiated outward from my chest. The bond, strengthened immeasurably by our joining, now punished me for the separation.

Outside, morning light flooded the cave entrance. The storm had passed completely, leaving behind a clear sky and the lingering scent of ionized air. I rose, gathering my scattered garments, my mind replaying the events of the previous night.

The intensity of our connection had surprised even me. In all the ancient texts, in all the stories passed down through generations of Nyxari, I had never heard of a bonding so profound, so immediate. The mental sharing that typically took years to develop had manifested fully in our first joining, allowing us glimpses into each other's minds, memories, emotions.

For me, the experience had been transcendent—like finding a missing piece of myself I hadn't known was absent. But as I dressed, doubt crept into my thoughts. Had it been too much, too soon? The human mind was different from Nyxari consciousness, unprepared perhaps for such intimate invasion.

I closed my eyes, using the deepened bond to sense her. She hadn't gone far—I could feel her presence like a distant beacon, moving slowly through the forest toward the settlement. And with that awareness came something new: emotional resonance. Faint but unmistakable impressions of her mental state filtered through our connection.

Confusion. Fear. Regret.

The realization struck like a physical blow. What had been beautiful and sacred to me had frightened her. The bodily pleasure we'd shared had been mutual, undeniable—but the mental intimacy, the merging of consciousness, had left her shaken.

I should have anticipated this. Should have warned her more thoroughly about what might happen. But how could I have known our bond would manifest so powerfully? No Nyxari lifebond in living memory had developed with such speed and intensity.

I gathered the remaining supplies, securing them efficiently before exiting the cave. The forest gleamed with moisture from the storm, vegetation already rebounding after the seismic tremors. Under different circumstances, I would have appreciated the beauty of Arenix in post-storm renewal. Today, I barely noticed it.

I followed Mirelle's trail easily, both through physical signs and the pull of the bond. She had made no attempt to hide her path, yet maintained a significant lead. Deliberately keeping her distance, even in retreat. The knowledge stung, but I respected her choice. After all, that had been my promise from the beginning—her freedom to choose, always.

I caught sight of her about halfway to the settlement. She walked with quick, determined strides, her back straight, shoulders tense. From my position several dozen meters behind, I could see the silvery glow of her expanded markings even through her clothing. They had spread dramatically after our joining, covering more of her body in patterns that closely mirrored my own lifelines.

For a Nyxari, such visible bonding signs would be cause for celebration—proof of a lifebond's strength and compatibility. But Mirelle was not Nyxari. She was human, with human perceptions and fears. To her, the spreading markings might seem like an invasion, a takeover of her physical form by something alien.

I deliberately made noise as I approached, not wishing to startle her. She stiffened but didn't turn, continuing her steady pace.

"The storm has cleared the path ahead," I said when I drew closer. "We should reach the settlement by midday."

She nodded without looking back. "Good."

Her voice held none of the warmth it had contained during our night together. The single word created more distance between us than the physical space we'd shared.

We walked in silence for a time, the forest alive with renewed activity around us. Creatures emerged from their storm shelters, vegetation unfurled after retracting during the seismic activity, and the air filled with the calls of flying predators seeking easy prey in the aftermath.

"The bond," I said finally, unable to bear the silence any longer. "It manifested more strongly than I anticipated. What we experienced was rare, even among my people."

Her shoulders tensed further. "I gathered that."

"Had I known, I would have prepared you better for the mental sharing."

She stopped abruptly, turning to face me for the first time. The sight of her stole my breath—not just her physical beauty, but the visible evidence of our bonding. Her markings had spread across her face in delicate, silvery patterns that framed her eyes and traced her cheekbones. They pulsed faintly, responding to my proximity despite her emotional withdrawal.

"Prepared me?" Her voice held a brittle edge. "How exactly does one prepare for having their mind invaded? For losing the boundary between self and other?"

The accusation cut deep. "The sharing goes both ways, Mirelle. My mind was equally open to you."

"That's different. You knew what to expect. You've been raised with these... lifebonds as part of your culture." She gestured to the markings on her arms. "I didn't ask for these. Didn't ask to be changed."

"The markings were present before our joining," I reminded her gently. "From the moment your ship crashed."

"But they weren't spreading. Weren't taking over more of my body." She ran a hand over her face where new patterns had emerged. "What happens next? Will they eventually cover all of me? Will I even look human anymore?"

The fear in her voice pierced me like a blade. Not fear of me, precisely, but of what was happening to her. Of what she was becoming.

"The markings will stabilize," I assured her, though in truth, I couldn't be certain. No human had ever borne Nyxari lifelines before. "They are channels for the energy that flows between us, not a disease consuming you."

She looked unconvinced. "And the mental... sharing? Will that happen every time we—" She broke off, unable to complete the thought.

"The intensity may lessen as we learn to control the connection," I said. "Among my people, mates eventually develop the ability to regulate the flow of thoughts and emotions between them."

"Eventually." She repeated the word with a hollow laugh. "And until then? I just accept that my most private thoughts and memories are no longer my own?"

I took a step toward her, instinct driving me to comfort her distress. She immediately backed away, maintaining the distance between us.

"I need time," she said. "Space to think."

The words sent a fresh wave of pain through my lifelines, but I nodded. "As you wish."

We resumed our walk toward the settlement, the silence between us now laden with unspoken emotions. Through our strengthened bond, I could sense her internal struggle—the physical pull toward me warring with her fear of losing herself. The distance she maintained wasn't born of disgust or hatred, but of self-preservation. Understanding this made her withdrawal no less painful, but at least gave me reason to hope.

As we neared the settlement, I noticed increased activity among both humans and Nyxari. Warriors moved with greater urgency than usual, and many of the marked women stood in a cluster at the edge of the camp, scanning the forest with obvious concern.

Varek spotted us first, breaking away from a group of warriors to approach.

"You survived the storm," he said, relief evident in his voice. His gaze moved between us, taking in our disheveled appearance and the new markings visible on Mirelle's skin. Understanding flashed in his eyes. "We feared you lost when you did not return before the seismic activity began."

"We found shelter in the hunting caves to the west," I replied.

Varek nodded, then lowered his voice. "Hammond's forces have been active during your absence. Three more marked women arrived seeking sanctuary after he cut their rations completely. He claims they were stealing supplies, but they tell a different tale."

The news momentarily bridged the gap between Mirelle and myself. She stepped forward, her personal concerns set aside in the face of this development.

"Which women?" she asked urgently.

"Rivera, the one who works with your medicines," Varek replied. "And two others whose names I do not know."

"Talia and Jen," Mirelle said, concern darkening her features. "Did he hurt them?"

"They arrived hungry but unharmed," Varek assured her. "Elder Rylis has welcomed them, but their arrival has raised tensions. Hammond sent messengers demanding their return, claiming they took critical supplies when they left."

"That's absurd," Mirelle said. "Rivera wouldn't steal—she's one of the most principled people I know."

I watched her shift mentally from our personal situation to the larger conflict brewing between the settlements. Despite her emotional withdrawal from me, her commitment to her people remained unwavering.

"I should speak with them," she said, already moving toward the settlement.

"Mirelle," I called after her, stopping her momentarily. "We need not speak of what happened between us, if that is your wish. But know that I remain at your service, regardless."

Something flickered in her expression—gratitude, perhaps, or recognition of the sacrifice such an offer cost me. With the bond now strengthened, physical separation would cause me constant discomfort. Yet I would endure it if that was what she needed.

She nodded once, then continued toward the settlement. I watched her go, the pain in my lifelines intensifying with each step she took away from me.

"The bond is complete," Varek observed quietly beside me. "Yet she pulls away."

"It manifested too strongly," I replied. "The mental sharing overwhelmed her."

Varek's expression grew concerned. "Such depth in a first joining is unprecedented. The Elders will wish to speak with you."

"Later," I said, my attention still fixed on Mirelle's retreating form. "First, I must understand what Hammond plans. His actions grow more aggressive by the day."

We walked together toward the settlement, Varek updating me on developments during our absence. Hammond had established armed patrols along the borders of his territory, turning away Nyxari hunters who had previously been allowed to traverse the area. He had also begun questioning those humans who maintained friendly relations with the Nyxari, subjecting them to increased scrutiny and reduced rations.

"He builds toward conflict," Varek concluded grimly.

"Or seeks to provoke it," I replied. "Either way, we must be prepared."

At the settlement's edge, I found myself automatically scanning for Mirelle. She stood with Rivera and the other newly arrived women, her body language conveying both comfort and concern as they spoke. Through our bond, I sensed her determination to protect them, to ensure they found safety here despite leaving their own people behind.

I turned away before she could notice my attention, making my way instead to the warriors' training ground. Physical exertion might help dull the constant ache of separation, at least temporarily.

As I drew my blade for practice, my second-in-command approached, his expression solemn.

"Our scouts report increased movement in the human camp," he said without preamble. "Hammond gathers weapons. Prepares his people for something."

"Not all his people support him," I reminded him. "Many still favor cooperation."

"Those numbers dwindle daily," Varek countered. "Fear is a powerful motivator, and Hammond wields it skillfully."

I nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Double the patrols along our borders. Ensure the settlement is secured each night. But avoid confrontation if possible—we will not give Hammond the excuse he seeks."

Varek inclined his head in acknowledgment, then hesitated. "And what of your mate? She carries our markings now, yet walks alone."

The question pierced to the heart of my conflict—my duty to my people balanced against my respect for Mirelle's freedom to choose.

"She needs time," I replied, the words as painful to speak as they were true. "I will give her that, however much it costs me."

Varek clasped my shoulder briefly, a rare gesture of sympathy from the stoic warrior. "The strongest bonds face the greatest tests."

As he departed, I began the training rituals that had been part of my daily life since childhood. Each movement was precise, controlled, the blade an extension of my body as I flowed through the ancient forms. Yet today, my usual focus eluded me. My awareness remained split, part of me always tracking Mirelle's location through our strengthened bond.

She moved throughout the settlement, speaking with various humans and Nyxari, clearly working to integrate the new arrivals despite her own inner turmoil. Her strength continued to impress me, even as her distance pained me.

Hours passed this way, the physical exertion offering only minimal relief from the bond's constant pull. When evening approached, I completed my training and made my way to the Council Hall where Elder Rylis had summoned me.

The ancient Nyxari awaited me in the inner chamber, seated before a table strewn with scrolls and artifacts. His lifelines glowed with subtle energy, their patterns more complex than any other Nyxari I had encountered.

"," he greeted me, gesturing for me to sit. "I sense the change in you. The bond has deepened considerably."

I inclined my head in acknowledgment. "During the storm, we took shelter in the western caves. The bond... manifested fully."

Rylis studied me, his ancient eyes missing nothing. "Yet your mate distances herself. I have observed her today—her markings have expanded dramatically, but she walks alone, avoiding your presence."

"The mental sharing was unexpected and overwhelming for her," I explained. "She needs time to adjust."

"Hmm." Rylis tapped a gnarled finger against a scroll before him. "In all our recorded history, no lifebond has developed so rapidly, nor manifested such complete mental sharing during the first joining. This is unprecedented, . Your connection with the human female transcends our understanding of how lifebonds function."

"What does it mean?" I asked, voicing the question that had plagued me throughout the day.

"I cannot say with certainty," Rylis admitted. "But consider this—all the marked women bear patterns similar to our lifelines, yet none have developed abilities as quickly or strongly as Mirelle. Her danger sense manifested within days, while others still struggle to understand their markings at all."

He unrolled a scroll covered in ancient symbols. "The markings were once much more than decorative patterns or simple mating signals. They were conduits for abilities now largely lost to our people. The ancient texts speak of Nyxari who could share thoughts over great distances, sense approaching danger days in advance, even manipulate the very elements of Arenix itself."

"You believe the markings are awakening these abilities in the human women?" I asked, stunned by the implication.

"In those compatible with our lifelines, yes," Rylis nodded. "And none has shown greater compatibility than your Mirelle. Your completed bond appears to have accelerated the process dramatically."

I absorbed this information slowly, considering its implications. "She fears losing herself, her humanity. If what you say is true, her concerns are justified."

"Not losing," Rylis corrected gently. "Transforming. Becoming something new—neither fully human nor fully Nyxari, but a bridge between worlds. Such evolution is rarely comfortable, but it need not be feared."

"She needs time to understand this," I said. "Space to accept these changes at her own pace."

"Time you will give her, I have no doubt," Rylis said with a knowing smile. "It is your nature, , to protect others' freedom, even at cost to yourself." His expression grew more serious. "But time may be a luxury we cannot afford. Hammond grows bolder with each passing day. His fear of what the marked women represent drives him toward increasingly desperate actions."

"What would you have me do?" I asked. "I will not force Mirelle to accept a bond she fears."

"Of course not," Rylis agreed. "But perhaps help her see that what she fears losing—her humanity—is not threatened by the bond, but enhanced by it. The markings do not erase what she was; they build upon her existing strengths."

I considered his words, trying to imagine how I might convey such a concept to Mirelle when she could barely stand to be near me. "I will try."

As I left the Council Hall, the settlement had settled into evening routines. Cooking fires burned brightly, small groups gathered to share meals and conversation, and guards took their positions for the night watch. I sensed Mirelle in her dwelling through our bond—not asleep, but restless, her emotions a tangled mass of confusion, fear, and lingering desire.

The pull to go to her was nearly overwhelming. To cross the settlement, enter her dwelling, take her in my arms and show her through actions what words could not convey—that our connection threatened nothing of what made her uniquely herself. That indeed, it was her fierce independence, her courage, her determination that had drawn me to her from the first moment.

Instead, I returned to my own dwelling, the emptiness of it mirroring the hollow ache in my chest. I had promised her space, and I would honor that promise, however much it pained me. The bond between us had formed too quickly, too intensely. Now we would need to rebuild trust at a pace she could accept.

As I stretched out on my sleeping platform, my lifelines pulsed with dull pain, responding to her physical distance. But beneath that discomfort lay something else—an awareness of her that transcended mere physical proximity. I could sense her consciousness, a distant but undeniable presence in the back of my mind.

Whether she accepted it yet or not, we were connected now in ways that went beyond the physical. The challenge lay in helping her see that connection not as a threat to her identity, but as an enhancement of it. Not as a loss of self, but as a gaining of something greater than either of us could be alone.

I closed my eyes, letting my consciousness drift toward sleep, the bond between us a golden thread stretching across the settlement—painful in its tension, yet unbroken despite all.