Page 13 of Alien Warrior’s Claim (Nyxari Bondmates #1)

MIRELLE

I couldn't sleep. The silver patterns within my skin continued to pulse with residual energy from the night's activities, illuminating my dwelling despite my attempts to rest.

Rising from my sleeping platform, I moved to the small basin of water in the corner and splashed my face, hoping the cool liquid might provide some relief. When I looked up, catching my reflection in the polished metal surface beside the basin, I barely recognized myself.

The markings had spread across my face overnight, delicate silver lines tracing my cheekbones, curving around my eyes, following the line of my jaw. Beautiful, in their way—like intricate frost patterns on winter glass. But undeniably alien. I traced one with my fingertip, feeling the slight raised texture that hadn't been there before.

Was this still my face? My body? The uncertainty gnawed at me like a physical hunger.

Worse than the visible changes was the constant awareness of Lazrin's presence. Despite the physical distance between our dwellings, I could sense him like a beacon in the night—his consciousness a subtle pressure at the edges of my mind. Even now, I could feel his restlessness mirroring my own, his pain at our separation a dull ache that somehow transmitted through whatever connection bound us together.

I dressed quickly, pulling on a clean pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt that covered most of the network of markings. There was no point in bandages anymore—they were too extensive to hide completely. Besides, here in the Nyxari settlement, there was no need to conceal what everyone already knew existed.

Outside, pre-dawn light painted the settlement in shades of blue and grey. A few early-rising Nyxari moved about their morning routines, acknowledging me with respectful nods as I passed. Their gazes lingered longer than usual, taking in the expanded markings on my face. Some looked upon them with what seemed like reverence; others with undisguised curiosity.

I avoided the main pathways, instead taking a circuitous route that led me away from the center of the settlement. Away from where I could sense Lazrin's presence most strongly. The physical distance provided minimal relief from the awareness of him, but even that small respite was welcome.

My wandering brought me to the dwelling where Rivera and the other newly arrived women had been housed. Light glowed from within despite the early hour, suggesting they too struggled with sleep in their new surroundings. I hesitated, then knocked softly on the entry frame.

Rivera answered, her expression shifting from wariness to relief when she saw me. ". Come in."

The interior was warm and simply furnished, like my own dwelling. Talia and Jen sat cross-legged on cushions, speaking softly until my arrival interrupted their conversation. Both looked up with tired smiles.

"Sorry to disturb you so early," I said, settling on an empty cushion.

"We haven't really slept," Talia admitted. Her markings were less pronounced than mine—subtle silver lines that curved around her wrists and up her forearms. "Too much happened too quickly."

"Tell me," I said, grateful for the distraction from my own troubles. "Varek said Hammond accused you of stealing supplies?"

Rivera snorted, a sound of pure derision. "That was just his excuse. The truth is, we were getting too friendly with some of the Nyxari hunters who brought game to the human camp. Hammond's been watching all the marked women like hawks, waiting for any reason to punish us."

"He claimed we took medical supplies," Jen added. She was younger than the others, barely twenty, with silvery markings that peeked from beneath her collar. "But Rivera was the one who catalogued those supplies in the first place. She knew exactly what was missing and what wasn't."

"What was missing?" I asked.

"Nothing we took," Rivera said firmly. "But several items had disappeared over the previous week—antiseptics, pain relievers, bandages. The kind of things you'd need if you were preparing for injuries."

The implications sent a chill through me. "You think Hammond is preparing for conflict?"

"I know he is," Rivera lowered her voice, though we were alone in the dwelling. "The night before we left, I overheard him with his inner circle. He's convinced the marked women are being controlled somehow, turned against humanity. He said the 'contamination' was spreading and needed to be contained."

"Contained how?" I asked, though I feared I already knew the answer.

"He didn't specify, but his tone..." Rivera shook her head. "I've heard that tone before, . Back on Earth, before the colony mission. It's the tone of someone who's found justification for violence."

The news confirmed what Varek had told Lazrin, what I'd already suspected about Hammond's deteriorating mental state. His paranoia about the marked women had progressed from suspicion to active hostility—and now, it seemed, to preparations for direct action.

"How many still support him?" I asked.

"Fewer every day," Talia said. "But those who remain are frightened, and fear makes people dangerous. They're starting to see the marked women as something other than human."

The words struck too close to my own fears. I touched the silver patterns on my face self-consciously. "And what do you think? About these markings? About what's happening to us?"

The three women exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them.

"They're changing us," Rivera said finally, her voice quiet but steady. "I can feel objects before I touch them now—sense their texture, temperature, composition. It started after my markings appeared, and it's getting stronger."

"I hear things," Jen admitted. "Sounds too distant or too quiet for normal human hearing. Conversations across the camp. Animals moving in the forest. It's overwhelming sometimes."

Talia nodded. "For me, it's plants. I know which ones are poisonous, which have medicinal properties, which are safe to eat—just by being near them. I've never studied botany, yet somehow I understand them now."

I listened with growing wonder and trepidation. Each described abilities that far exceeded normal human senses, yet spoke with a mixture of fear and fascination rather than outright horror.

"You don't seem terrified by these changes," I observed.

"Oh, I was at first," Rivera said with a short laugh. "Thought I was losing my mind. But then I realized—this isn't making me less. It's making me more." She held up her hand, the silvery patterns catching the light. "Whatever these markings are, they're enhancing something that was already inside me. Not replacing who I am."

Her perspective gave me pause. Was that another way to look at what was happening? Not a loss of humanity, but an enhancement of it? The thought was both comforting and unsettling.

"What about you?" Jen asked, studying my face with undisguised curiosity. "Your markings have spread much further than ours. What can you do?"

I hesitated, unwilling to share the full extent of what had happened between Lazrin and me. "I can sense danger before it happens. It saved my life when one of the monsters attacked."

"That's how mine started too," Rivera said. "Small abilities at first, growing stronger over time. But yours..." She gestured to my face. "Something accelerated the process for you."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. These women weren't fools; they could draw their own conclusions about what might have happened.

"The bond deepened," I admitted, offering no further details. "Unexpectedly."

Talia's expression turned knowing. "With the copper-haired one? The leader?"

I nodded, unable to deny it. "Lazrin."

"And now you're afraid," Rivera observed quietly. "Not of him, but of what's happening to you."

"Wouldn't you be?" I asked, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my voice. "These changes, these abilities... they're not human."

"Neither is this planet," Rivera pointed out reasonably. "Neither are the Nyxari. Yet here we are, trying to survive both. Maybe these changes are part of that adaptation."

"Adaptation is one thing," I said. "But there's more. When the bond deepened, I could see into his mind. His memories, his thoughts. And he could see into mine." The violation of it still disturbed me deeply. "What happens when those boundaries disappear completely? When I can't tell where he ends and I begin?"

The women fell silent, considering this new information. It was Jen who finally spoke, her voice gentle despite her youth.

"Did it feel wrong? The connection itself, I mean. Not the fear afterward, but the actual experience."

The question caught me off guard. I'd been so focused on the aftermath, on my fears of what the connection might mean, that I'd barely allowed myself to remember how it had felt in the moment.

"No," I admitted reluctantly. "It felt... right. Like something clicking into place."

"Then maybe it isn't the connection itself you fear," Jen suggested. "Maybe it's the loss of control. The inability to choose what parts of yourself to share."

Her insight struck uncomfortably close to the truth. I'd spent my life carefully guarding my thoughts, my vulnerabilities, my deepest self. The instant and complete sharing I'd experienced with Lazrin had stripped away those defenses in a moment, exposing everything I'd kept hidden.

"Maybe," I conceded. "But that doesn't change the fact that it happened without my consent. Without warning."

"Have you talked to him about it?" Talia asked. "Explained your fears?"

I shook my head. "I've been avoiding him since we returned from the cave."

"And how's that working for you?" Rivera's tone carried no judgment, only genuine curiosity.

"It hurts," I admitted, the words barely audible. "Physically hurts to be apart from him. Like a constant ache that never quite fades."

"For him too, I'd wager," she said.

The thought hadn't fully occurred to me—that Lazrin might be experiencing the same physical pain I felt. Yet through our connection, I realized I could sense exactly that—a dull, persistent ache emanating from him, mirroring my own discomfort.

"I need time," I said, though the excuse sounded hollow even to my own ears. "Space to understand what's happening to me."

"Fair enough," Rivera nodded. "But understanding might come faster with information, and he has more of that than we do. The Nyxari have lived with these lifelines for generations."

She had a point, though I was reluctant to admit it. Avoidance solved nothing, and if these markings truly were changing me—changing all of us—then we needed to understand how and why.

Our conversation shifted to more immediate concerns—helping the new arrivals integrate into the Nyxari settlement, distributing supplies, and establishing communication with the humans who remained at Hammond's camp but might be sympathetic to cooperation.

By late afternoon, I needed a break from the settlement entirely. Taking a small pack with water and emergency supplies, I informed one of the Nyxari guards that I intended to explore the nearby forest, deliberately choosing a direction opposite from where I sensed Lazrin was working.

"Take care, Marked One," the guard cautioned respectfully. "The western paths lead toward areas damaged by the seismic storm. The ground may be unstable."

I nodded my thanks for the warning and set off, relishing the temporary freedom of solitude. The forest beyond the settlement was alive with activity—creatures large and small going about their business, plants unfurling after the storm, the entire ecosystem rebounding with resilient vigor.

About an hour into my walk, I came across an unusual formation—a depression in the earth that hadn't been there before the storm. The seismic activity had caused a partial collapse, revealing what appeared to be an artificial structure beneath. Curiosity piqued, I approached cautiously, testing the ground's stability with each step.

The collapsed area exposed a small section of what looked like a metal panel embedded in the soil. Kneeling beside it, I brushed away loose earth to reveal geometrical patterns etched into its surface—patterns that bore a striking resemblance to the silver tracery beneath my skin.

As my fingers traced the patterns, my markings flared with sudden heat. The panel beneath my hand responded, glowing with soft silver light that matched the pulsing of my markings perfectly. A seam appeared in what had seemed solid metal, and a section slid aside to reveal a small compartment beneath.

Inside lay a collection of stones identical to the translation pendants the Nyxari had given us. Dozens of them, hundreds.

I reached in, lifting one carefully. It brightened at my touch, the glow intensifying as if recognizing the intricate lattice beneath my skin. With the realization of what I'd found came understanding of its significance—enough translation stones for every human in Hammond's camp.

A way to bridge the communication gap completely, to allow all humans to understand the Nyxari.

The discovery thrilled and troubled me in equal measure. On one hand, improved communication could only help ease tensions between our peoples. On the other, Hammond would see this as further proof of his conspiracy theories—hidden Nyxari technology activated by the marked women.

I gathered the stones carefully into my pack, my mind racing with implications. This wasn't a random find; the panel had responded specifically to my markings. Had it been waiting for someone like me to discover it? How long had it been buried here? And what did it mean that I could activate Nyxari technology through touch alone?

As I neared the settlement, the awareness of Lazrin sharpened in my mind. He'd noticed my return, his consciousness turning toward me like a flower tracking the sun. With the discovery of the stones, I found it harder to maintain the emotional distance I'd enforced since our return from the cave. Whatever was happening between us, whatever these markings signified, they were clearly part of something larger than either of us had realized.

I made my way directly to the Council Hall where Rylis typically spent his evenings. As I approached the entrance, my awareness of Lazrin spiked sharply. He was inside, meeting with the Elder. I hesitated, torn between my desire to share my discovery and my reluctance to face him so soon.

Before I could decide, the entrance membrane parted and Lazrin emerged. He stopped abruptly at the sight of me, his golden eyes widening slightly. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the connection between us humming with unspoken tension.

"," he said finally, my name a gentle rumble in his deep voice.

"Lazrin." I clutched my pack tighter, painfully aware of the stones inside and the awkwardness between us. "I need to speak with Elder Rylis."

"He awaits you," Lazrin replied, surprising me. "He sensed your approach."

Of course he had. The Nyxari Elder's abilities far exceeded those of the warriors. Nothing about this planet or its people should surprise me anymore.

Lazrin stepped aside to let me pass, careful to maintain distance between us. As I moved toward the entrance, his voice stopped me again.

"The forest revealed something to you," he observed, his gaze dropping to my pack.

I considered denying it, but what would be the point? He could likely sense my excitement and trepidation through our bond. "Yes. Something I don't understand."

He nodded, accepting this without pressing for details. "Understanding will come, . Of many things."

The simple statement carried layers of meaning. He wasn't just referring to whatever I'd discovered in the forest, but to the larger questions between us. To my fears about what was happening to me. To the connection we both felt but I continued to resist.

"I hope so," I said, unable to offer more.

Inside the Council Hall, Elder Rylis sat surrounded by ancient scrolls and artifacts. He looked up as I entered, his ancient eyes crinkling at the corners.

"," he greeted me. "Your discovery brings you back to us at last."

I approached, unsurprised by his foreknowledge. "You knew I would find something in the forest?"

"I suspected Arenix would reveal its secrets to you when you were ready to see them," he replied cryptically. "Show me what you have brought."

I opened my pack, carefully removing the translation stones and placing them on the table before him. "There are dozens more. They were hidden in a panel that responded to my markings."

Rylis examined the stones with evident interest but no surprise. "The ancestors understood the importance of communication between peoples. These were created for times when many tongues needed to speak as one."

"You knew more of them existed?" I asked, a hint of accusation in my voice.

"I knew our ancestors created many such caches throughout Arenix," he replied calmly. "But their locations were lost during the Great Division. Only those bearing the sacred patterns could reveal them—and until your arrival, none with such markings had walked Arenix for generations."

I sank onto a cushion across from him, suddenly weary. "What's happening to me, Elder? To all of us with these markings? Rivera can sense objects without touching them. Jen hears things no human should be able to hear. And I..." I gestured to my face, to the elaborate patterns that now adorned it. "I'm changing, inside and out."

Rylis studied me thoughtfully. "You fear these changes because you do not understand them. Because they challenge your perception of what it means to be human."

"Wouldn't you fear them, in my position?" I asked.

"Perhaps," he conceded. "Yet consider this—the markings do not erase what you were; they build upon your existing strengths. They are conduits for abilities that lay dormant within you, waiting to be awakened."

"But the mental connection with Lazrin," I persisted. "The ability to see into each other's thoughts, memories. That goes beyond enhancement of existing abilities."

Rylis smiled gently. "Does it? Humans have always sought connection with others, have they not? Your species creates bonds of family, friendship, love. You share your thoughts through language, your emotions through expression. The lifebond merely removes the barriers that make such sharing imperfect."

His perspective gave me pause. Was that another way to look at the mental connection—not as an invasion, but as a more perfect form of the communication humans had always sought?

"The bond formed too quickly," I said, voicing my deepest fear. "Too intensely. I wasn't prepared for what happened between us."

"Few ever are," Rylis said. "Even among my people, the depth of a lifebond often surprises those who experience it."

He gestured to the translation stones I'd brought. "These are a powerful symbol, . They represent the bridge between our peoples—a bridge you have helped to build. Yet you try to sever the most personal bridge of all—the one between yourself and Lazrin."

His gentle reprimand struck home. "I need time," I repeated, though the excuse sounded weaker each time I used it.

"Time you shall have," Rylis assured me. "But consider that understanding comes through engagement, not retreat. Your fears about losing yourself will not be resolved by isolation."

I gathered the translation stones back into my pack, his words echoing in my mind. "I'll think about what you've said. In the meantime, these stones should be distributed to Hammond's camp—to anyone willing to accept them."

"A wise decision," Rylis nodded. "Though Hammond himself will likely see them as a threat rather than an opportunity."

"Probably," I agreed. "But there are others in his camp who want to understand your people, who seek cooperation rather than conflict. These will help them."

As I made my way toward my dwelling, planning to rest before the evening meal, I brushed my fingers against the translation stone by my throat. The connection it provided had become second nature—so much so that I sometimes forgot it was technology rather than innate understanding. Perhaps that was a metaphor for what was happening with the markings themselves—something foreign becoming so integrated that it felt natural.

My awareness of Lazrin shifted. He had moved to the training grounds at the settlement's edge, far from my path. Deliberately giving me space, I realized. Respecting my need for distance despite the pain it caused him.

The realization brought an unexpected wave of emotion. Everything Lazrin had done, from our first meeting to this moment, had demonstrated respect for my choices. He had protected without controlling, guided without commanding, desired without demanding. Even now, when our bond made separation physically painful for him, he honored my wishes.

Whatever challenges awaited us beyond tomorrow, we would face them changed—not just as individuals, but as something new. The thought no longer electrified me. But perhaps it didn't need to terrify me either.

The translation stones in my pack felt suddenly symbolic. Bridges between peoples, Rylis had called them. Perhaps it was time I stopped fighting the bridge that had formed between Lazrin and myself—not surrendering to it blindly, but approaching it with cautious curiosity rather than fear.