Page 6 of Alien Warrior’s Claim (Nyxari Bondmates #1)

LAZRIN

T hree days passed like the drift of stars across the night sky—slowly, yet with an inexorable purpose. I spent them in meditation at our temporary camp, preparing my spirit for what might come. My warriors maintained their vigil near the human settlement, reporting that discord had spread among them like ripples in a still pool.

I hoped to the ancestors that the humans did not touch Mirelle. I could not bear to think of her kind attempting to desecrate what I was already thinking of as mine. If anyone hurt my Mirelle, I would destroy them limb from limb.

Now, as the twin suns crested the horizon, painting Arenix's skies in swaths of amber and gold, I stood beside Elder Rylis at the appointed meeting place—a clearing equidistant between our camps. The translation stone at my throat lay dormant, ready to activate when humans came within range.

"Their leader approaches," Varek murmured beside me. "He brings many armed companions."

I nodded, unsurprised. The human male, Hammond, would not relinquish his control easily. Behind him, I spotted her immediately—Mirelle, her dark hair pulled back, expression guarded yet resolute. My lifelines pulsed at the sight of her, sending warmth surging beneath my skin.

As they came within range, the translation stone on my throat warmed in anticipation of bridging our languages. She wore her translation pendant openly now, the stone glowing with subtle energy against her throat. Several other humans wore similar pendants, but many did not. Those without translation stones would understand nothing of our words unless they stood close to one who carried a stone.

Rylis stepped forward, raising his ceremonial staff adorned with ancient symbols. The larger translation stone activated as he spoke, its glow creating a field that would enable all within proximity to understand. "Greetings, sky-fallen ones. We have come as promised to hear your decision regarding the Honor Pact."

Hammond's face tightened, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "We've discussed your... proposal."

The way he spat the word made his feelings clear. The humans had formed a loose semicircle, their armed guards positioned at strategic intervals. Their body language spoke volumes—muscles tensed, weapons held ready, gazes darting between us Nyxari as if expecting attack at any moment.

Yet behind them, I noticed others with more open expressions. The marked females in particular watched with mingled fear and curiosity. They huddled together, unconsciously seeking protection from one another rather than from Hammond's warriors.

The Elder held up the central translation stone, its light illuminating the fear and anger on the humans' faces. "The markings choose," he said. "They have chosen some of your women as compatible. The Honor Pact offers protection, knowledge, survival—if you accept."

Hammond's jaw flexed. "Let me be absolutely clear. We reject your so-called Honor Pact. My people are not livestock to be traded away for your alien offspring. We are not a resource to be harvested."

"No one speaks of trade," Rylis replied, his voice calm despite the insult, the translation stone on his neck pulsing with each word. "The Pact is about mutual choice and benefit. None would be forced."

"You're manipulating us," Hammond countered, stepping forward aggressively. "Using our desperate situation to gain access to our women."

I controlled my reaction, though anger flared beneath my composed exterior. This human male spoke as if the females were possessions, his possessions, yet accused us of treating them as commodities.

"Without shelter, food sources, and knowledge of Arenix's dangers, your people face extinction," Rylis stated plainly, his translation stone ensuring all understood. "The first seismic storm will destroy those fragile structures you've built. The winter cold will claim those who survive. Is pride worth such a cost?"

Hammond's hand dropped to his weapon, fingers tightening around it. "We will survive on our own terms, not as breeding stock for aliens."

The tension crackled like lightning before a storm. My warriors shifted subtly, preparing for conflict should Hammond's restraint break. I kept my attention on Mirelle, who watched this exchange with growing frustration evident in the tightening of her shoulders, the narrowing of her eyes. Her translation pendant glowed steadily as she followed the conversation.

Then, to my shock, she stepped forward.

"I volunteer," she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The translation stone at her throat glowed brighter as she spoke, ensuring all present could understand her.

All eyes turned to her. Hammond's expression transformed to one of stunned disbelief, then fury.

"Duvane, stand down," he ordered. "That's a direct command."

She met his gaze unflinchingly, her translation stone glowing steadily. "We're running out of food. Winter is coming. We don't know this planet's dangers." Her voice remained steady, practical. "This isn't about emotion, Hammond. It's about survival."

Murmurs rippled through the gathered humans. I noticed several of the marked women exchanging glances, perhaps wondering if they too should speak.

Hammond's expression darkened as he stepped closer to Mirelle. "This isn't a democracy, Duvane. I'm still in command here."

"A commander who leads his people to starvation isn't much of a leader," she countered, her translation stone pulsing with her words.

Hammond's jaw clenched. "You're out of line."

"And you're out of options," Mirelle replied. "Pride won't feed our people or protect them from predators."

My lifelines brightened at her defense, a subtle ripple of gold beneath my skin. I felt pride in her courage, even as concern for her position grew. Hammond did not strike me as one who accepted challenges to his authority.

"This is exactly what I warned about," Hammond said, turning to address the gathered humans. "These aliens have already contaminated her thinking. The markings are changing her, making her turn against her own kind."

"My thinking is perfectly clear," Mirelle said. "I'm not turning against anyone. I'm trying to ensure our survival."

Hammond ignored her, continuing to address the crowd. "These creatures want access to our women. They're manipulating us, using our desperate situation. First Duvane, then who? Your daughters? Your sisters?"

Anger flared within me at his deliberate mischaracterization, sending a wave of heat through my lifelines. I forced myself to remain outwardly calm, knowing that any display of emotion would only reinforce his accusations.

"The Honor Pact is a choice," Rylis stated calmly, his ceremonial translation stone glowing steadily. "No one will be forced. Each marked one must decide for themselves."

"A choice?" Hammond laughed bitterly. "Like Duvane here has a 'choice'? Look at her—defending aliens over her own people. These marks have already changed her."

"The marks don't control me," Mirelle said firmly. "They've heightened my senses, made me stronger. If anything, they've given me clarity."

"Listen to yourself," Hammond snapped. His hand moved to her arm, gripping it tightly. "You need medical evaluation. These alien influences?—"

My lifelines flared at his touch, a sudden pulse of golden light that made several humans step back in alarm. I did not move, did not transform, but my voice emerged deeper than normal, resonating through the clearing as the translation stone near my throat warmed.

"Remove your hand," I said quietly.

Hammond's eyes widened at the change in my demeanor, but his grip on Mirelle's arm only tightened. "This is human business."

"My choice is not your business," Mirelle said, twisting her arm free with surprising strength. The markings along her forearm glowed faintly where Hammond had gripped her, as if responding to the threat.

Hammond stumbled back a step, genuine shock crossing his features at her enhanced strength. He looked from her glowing markings to my brightened lifelines, making connections I could see disturbed him deeply.

"You see?" he addressed his people again, pointing at Mirelle's arm. "The contamination spreads. It changes them. Makes them stronger, different. How long before they're not even human anymore?"

"They're not contaminated," I said, my voice steady as the translation stone on my throat converted my words. "They are chosen. The markings appear only on those who are compatible with our kind."

"Compatible?" Hammond seized on the word, his expression triumphant. "So you admit it—this is about breeding with our women!"

"It is about survival," Rylis interjected calmly. "Both yours and ours. The markings indicate those who can form a lifebond—a sacred connection that enhances both partners."

A new voice spoke up from the crowd—another of the marked women, her translation pendant glowing softly. "What exactly happens to those who... volunteer?"

Hammond wheeled toward her. "Don't even think about it, Roberts."

The woman—Roberts—straightened her shoulders. "I'm asking a reasonable question."

Rylis nodded toward her respectfully. "Those who choose may join their marked Nyxari partner. They will learn our ways, share our protection, and gain knowledge of Arenix. In return, the bond offers both partners enhanced abilities."

"So they'll be prisoners," Hammond interjected. "Kept for breeding."

"Guests," Rylis corrected, his translation stone pulsing evenly. "Or mates, if they choose that path. But always free to return to their people."

"Lies," Hammond snapped. "You just want?—"

"Enough!" Mirelle's voice cut through his tirade. The markings on her arms flared brighter, synchronizing momentarily with my lifelines in a display that made several humans step back. "You don't speak for all of us anymore, Hammond. Not when you've been sending marked women into predator territory for days."

A hush fell over the assembled humans. Even Hammond seemed momentarily silenced by the accusation.

"We've lost eight people in five days," Mirelle continued, her translation stone ensuring all understood. "You've ignored every warning sign. You've dismissed every concern about our safety. Now you're doing the same thing with the Honor Pact. Your pride will be the death of us all."

Hammond's face darkened with rage. For a moment, I thought he might strike her. My lifelines brightened in warning, though I remained outwardly composed.

"Duvane is officially relieved of duty," Hammond announced to the gathered humans. "She's suffering from alien contamination and is no longer fit to serve as expedition biologist."

"Then I resign officially," Mirelle replied without hesitation. "And I volunteer for the Honor Pact."

A murmur ran through the crowd. I noticed a number of the marked women exchanging meaningful glances, their own decisions perhaps forming in the wake of Mirelle's declaration.

"Anyone who follows her example will be considered a traitor to humanity," Hammond warned, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.

"Better a living traitor than a dead loyalist," Roberts said quietly, though the translation stones carried her words clearly.

Hammond's control finally snapped. He lunged toward Mirelle, not to harm her, but to grasp her arm and physically pull her back to the human side. "You're coming back to camp. Now."

I moved without thought, placing myself between them. I did not touch Hammond, did not threaten him, but my lifelines flared golden in clear warning as the translation stone near my throat warmed with my words: "She has made her choice. You will respect it."

For a moment, the tension in the clearing was thick enough to cut. Hammond's hand hovered near his weapon. My warriors shifted subtly, prepared to defend if necessary.

Mirelle defused the situation by stepping around me, placing herself where both sides could see her clearly. "I'm going with the Nyxari of my own free will," she announced, her translation pendant ensuring all understood. "Anyone else who wishes to learn more about the Honor Pact is welcome to join me. The rest of you should focus on surviving the winter."

Hammond's face contorted with barely contained fury. "This isn't over," he said finally, gesturing for his security team to form up. "When you realize what you've done, don't expect a welcome back."

"When winter comes," Mirelle replied quietly, " our offer still stands to help you."

With a sharp gesture, Hammond ordered his people to withdraw. Most followed immediately, though I noticed some of the marked women hesitated, their gazes lingering on Mirelle. Only four other women stood and came to us.

As the humans disappeared into the forest, Mirelle's composed facade cracked slightly. She exhaled a shaky breath as she embraced the women who had decided to come with her. "That went about as well as I expected."

"You challenged your leader," I observed, the translation stone on my throat warming with my words. "That required conviction."

"Former leader," she corrected, a hint of uncertainty crossing her features. "I don't think I can return there now."

"Your markings," I nodded toward her forearms where the silver patterns still glowed faintly. "They responded when he threatened you."

She studied them with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "I felt it—like an electric current under my skin. A warning system."

"The lifebond enhances certain traits," I explained. "For you, it appears to be danger perception."

"And for you?" she asked, her gaze lifting to my still-brightened lifelines.

"Protective instinct," I admitted. "When Hammond moved toward you, I felt..." I hesitated, uncertain how to explain without alarming her.

"Something primal," she finished for me, her translation pendant pulsing softly. "I saw it in your eyes. For a moment, they seemed to shift color."

I nodded, studying her reaction carefully. "Does that knowledge disturb you?"

She considered this, her fingers absently tracing the silver patterns along her wrist. "It should, probably. But mostly I'm curious." Her translation stone glowed steadily between us. "There's so much I don't understand about these markings, about the lifebond."

"You will learn," I promised. "The bond forms gradually, strengthening with time and proximity." I was careful not to mention physical intimacy, not yet. "Each pair's connection manifests differently."

"And if I change my mind?" she asked, her gaze direct.

"Then you return to your people," I replied simply. "The bond cannot be forced. It must be chosen, by both parties."

She nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. After a moment, she extended her hand toward me—a human gesture I recognized as an offer of agreement. "Then I choose to learn more about this bond. About the Nyxari. About survival on this planet."

I took her offered hand, careful of my strength. Where our skin connected, her markings glowed in harmony with my lifelines, creating a bridge of silvery-gold light between us.

"We should return to the settlement," I said, reluctantly releasing her hand. "The rest of the Elders will be anxious to meet you."